


Of Mountains And Seas

by caffeineivore, goldenstreakz, SCGdoeswhat



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Ancient China, Ass-Kicking, Battle Couple, Court Intrigues, F/M, Food Porn, Gen, Kung Fu, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Martial Arts, Minor Character Death, Secret Identity, Strangers to Lovers, Swordfighting, Travel, Tropes, Wuxia, charlie is chaotic evil, lost princesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 37,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeineivore/pseuds/caffeineivore, https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenstreakz/pseuds/goldenstreakz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SCGdoeswhat/pseuds/SCGdoeswhat
Summary: A young woman learns of her birthright as a long-lost princess, and makes the long and perilous journey towards the nation’s capital to fulfill her destiny and avenge her assassinated parents. Along the way, she experiences misadventures a-plenty, not the least of which involve meeting a lone wolf warrior who is certainly not interested in protecting a prissy temple maiden with a tongue as sharp as her sword.Written for the ssminibang. Sailor Moon senshi/shitennou AU with R/J as primary ship and a slew of other characters, including Professor Tomoe and Kaolinite as villains.
Relationships: Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi, Hino Rei/Jadeite, Kaolinite/Tomoe Souichi, Kino Makoto/Nephrite, Mizuno Ami/Zoisite, Senshi/Shitennou
Comments: 20
Kudos: 20
Collections: Senshi & Shitennou Mini Bang 2020





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second fic for this year's ssminibang, written as a pinch hit. Many thanks to my artist collaborators SCGdoeswhat and goldenstreakz for working with me, as well as my betas Satine86 and ElvisVF101. Also many thanks to our awesome mod squad for running this event even through the dumpster fire that is 2020.
> 
> Set in a fictitious AU Dynastic China of no specific time period. Many liberties taken with history. Mandarin Chinese is accurate to the best of my knowledge and ability.

The Golden Temple sits on the summit of the misty mountain, but a variety of different outbuildings dot the landscape along the perilous trail. A lone horse picks along the path, shying at the unfamiliar sounds of wildlife, the miles of rough road. It must have been a handsome animal once, white and long-legged, more suitable for glittering processions in a city teeming with life and luxury than this remote alpine ridge, but a weak pat on the flank from its teetering rider has the animal soldiering on. 

“How much longer, Mama?” A tiny, dark head peeks out from where it’d been buried in the rider’s neck. The little girl is no more than four, clinging to her mother’s back for dear life, mostly concealed under a bulky black cloak marred with flecks of dried blood. Both woman and child are weak from hunger and exertion, but the woman makes a shushing noise as the horse meanders on. The journey that had led to this place had taken more than a fortnight of hard riding, certainly harder than she could bear with her injuries, but her sole concern was for the safety of her child. The High Priest of the Golden Temple owes the woman a life debt-- long before the child was ever born, or indeed the woman was ever betrothed to a man who would have become the heir apparent to the throne-- in a simpler time, long ago, when a nobleman’s daughter had fed and sheltered an apparent beggar in her family’s stables during a snowstorm. The temple itself is still at least another day’s journey away-- a day of hard riding at that. Clutching the wound on her side with one hand, the reins with the other, the woman tries to spur the horse on at a faster pace. It picks up its feet, but when a chattering macaque skitters into its path, the animal shies again, and this time the woman falls from her mount, too weak to even moan with pain. Her body cushions the worst of the ruts on the road for the child, but the little girl, too scared and cantankerous to keep quiet now, raises her voice up in a wail. 

The sound echoes forlornly against the rocky crags and valleys, and within minutes, two novices in black race down the cliff-face, agilely skirting through and around the boulders and treetops with the fleetness of a pair of ravens. They find the horse and rider and child on that narrow mountain trail, and even as one picks up the toddler, rocks her in a comforting way, the other inspects the fallen women, unmoving on the ground. “Feng-Jie, she’s been stabbed with a poisoned blade. It is too dangerous to transport her. We will need to call for help.”

The other novice, whose face is a mirror of her sister’s, nods, pulls a silver whistle out of a pocket of her robes, and brings it to her lips. Three shrill, bird-like calls later, and a dozen more black-clad acolytes descend upon the clearing, coming from all directions. Within moments, they have the area surrounded, and the eldest bends down, peering into the face of the dying woman. “Who are you? What brings you to our sanctuary?”

“I am Empress Rui-Sha, formerly of the house of Han. I entreat an audience with Master Wu.” With the last of her strength, she pulls a bloodied scroll from the bundle at her side, along with a jade pendant. “Please, tell him… a life for a life. Take care of my daughter.”

This declaration brings a flurry of questions, but before anyone can truly get a word in edgewise, a white-haired, deceptively fragile-looking old man descends upon the scene. “Silence!” His voice is deep and does not rise above a whisper, but immediately, everyone quiets, courtesying and awaiting instructions. The High Priest peers at the face of the young woman, then gasps in recognition. “Lady Han! You are gravely injured and far from home. What trouble brings you here?”

“I don’t have much time, Master Wu. My end draws near. They killed my husband, and caught me with a blade as I fled. You remember this pendant-- your gift, fifteen years ago. I’ve come to entreat that favour, now. My daughter, Li-Li-- she’s all that matters. Please, please…”

Master Wu peers at the little girl, who meets his stare with an owl-eyed look of her own from her spot ensconced in the young novice Di-Mei’s arms. The child’s face is smudged with dirt and bits of dried blood, and she looks hungry and ill-rested but otherwise unharmed. Her eyes, fearless violet and fringed with thick black lashes like her mother’s, are shiny with tears. At a gesture, the novice releases the toddler into the High Priest’s arms, and the little girl frowns, clutches at a handful of his white hair. “What is wrong with my Mama?”

“She is very sick, little one.” Master Wu answers simply. “What is your name?”

“Mama calls me Li-Li. She says I will use a different bigger name when I am older. Where are we? I like the bunnies and monkeys, but it’s cold.”

“You are at the sanctuary on Emei Mountain, under the protection of the Goddess.” Master Wu straightens, and addresses his disciples. “Do what you can for the woman, at the nearest shelter. She deserves to pass in peace, and be given back to the Gods in dignity, with all the prayers and rites. After, we will meet at the summit. I have a duty to this child, and all who follow me will protect her as their own. Feng-Jie, Di-Mei, follow me to the summit with the girl and the horse. The rest of you, attend to the lady.”

“MAMA!” Even though she can’t possibly be old enough to completely understand, the little girl’s voice pitches high in her alarm. Struggling out of the grasp of the High Priest, she runs over to where her mother lies on a makeshift litter on the ground, touches a skein of limp black hair. 

Her mother doesn’t have the strength to lift up a hand, but she manages a smile. “Be brave, my little firebird. Mama will always love you and watch over you. Now follow Grandpa Wu, that’s a good girl.”

“Grandpa Wu?” The Priest has enough of a sense of humour to raise an eyebrow at that, even in the face of the woman’s imminent death. “I’ve never considered such an outlandish thing.”

He doesn’t seem to have much of a choice, however, in this predicament. And so, with two of his faithful disciples trailing him, the High Priest spirits an unprecedented newcomer to the Golden Temple, all in the name of a long-ago life debt to a kind young woman who undoubtedly didn’t deserve her fate. Li-Li, officially Her Royal Highness, the Princess Ru-Yuan, firstborn of Emperor Tan-Xing and his Empress Rui-Sha of the Noble House of Han, would be hidden away and raised in their mountainous sanctuary, safe from the political intrigues of an Imperial city thousands of miles away. 

And so it would be for the next fifteen years.


	2. Chapter 1

A storm of arrows whiz through the air in rapid succession, pinging off a set of temple bells hanging high on the boughs of the towering pines in precise order and rhythm, and the chimes echo with the familiar call for morning prayer. The arrows-- long and thin with blunted metal arrowheads, land on the ground amidst a flurry of pine needles, and a slim woman in white robes collects them, dusts them off before putting them back in her quiver.

“No pine cones, perfect rhythm.” An approving voice sounds behind her, and Li smiles at the petite figure of Feng-Jie, one of the mountain sanctuary’s disciples. Throughout the decade and a half that she’d lived there, she had grown taller than the twins who’d helped rescue her when she was a child, but their closeness remained. “I daresay you may well now be the best shot with the longbow in our sect, outside of the Master. He’s surely proud.”

“But he won’t be so proud if we’re late to morning prayer, and Grandpa hasn’t scolded me in a whole month. We’d best get going.”

“I still can’t believe that he lets you call him that,” Di-Mei mutters as she joins the two up the path to the main temple grounds. “I didn’t think I’d live to see anyone get away with that, honestly.”

Li swallows a giggle at the older woman’s words, and the three of them take to the treetops as they cross the treacherous terrain, with little concern for the jagged rocks half-concealed under the morning mists at their feet. They make for a picturesque trio-- three dark-haired women, two in black and one in white, capering over the rough but beautiful landscape, the early morning sunlight gleaming off the metal of their arrows and the red tassels on their straight swords. All three arrive with minutes to spare in the grand courtyard, and fall in with the procession of acolytes heading towards the altar.

Life on Emei Mountain is simple and structured, with set times for prayers and rituals, simple meals and lifestyles. As with all the disciples, Li is trained in the _Emei_ Sect’s way of swordplay, archery and hand-to-hand combat, as well as the classics of literature and history, religion and the natural world, and held to the same exacting standards for decorum and behaviour as any under Master Wu’s supervision. Li knows that she is a ward and not a true novitiate, but it had been the decision of Master Wu to keep her true origin hidden for the safety of all, even if it meant accepting and answering to the moniker of “Grandpa Wu” in an effort to shield the young woman from potential harm. She herself has never been told the true identity of her parents, only that they had died and her mother had entrusted her to the current leader of the _Emei_ Sect to keep her safe.

Li takes her spot in front of the altar and lights her stick of incense, then closes her eyes and lets the familiar rhythm of the recited sutras and the smoothness of the prayer beads clutched in her hands lull her into meditation. The Golden Temple is far away from the everyday troubles of the world, and that certainly includes the political intrigues and upheavals of a capital city thousands of miles away.

As she finishes with the morning meditation and falls into the day’s routine-- sweeping the temple steps and grounds, eating a simple meal of rice and vegetables in spicy broth, rigorous swordplay and hand-to-hand drills on various designated spaces on the environs, Li has no idea of any troubles brewing from afar.

The current Emperor, His Majesty Shuo-Xing, is but a distant, nebulous concept. She knows nothing of his reputation as a bloodthirsty, draconian tyrant, nor of the fact that he is her uncle by blood-- the younger, ambitious and far more ruthless brother of her father. It had been whispered for years in the capital city that the assassin who had infiltrated the royal palace and ambushed Emperor Tan-Xing and his Empress in their private chambers had been secreted in past the guards by the machinations of then-duke Shuo-Xing. Of course, no one within reach or earshot of Emperor Shuo-Xing would have dared suggest such a thing; the number of demoted, imprisoned and executed courtiers under Shuo-Xing’s reign was warning enough to halt any mutiny.

The ruler had a chokehold on the nation, an iron grip on his golden throne, and the outward fawning of his court. But with every barbarous act, every cruel decree, Shuo-Xing’s grasp on the loyalty of his people weakened. There are whispers-- unclaimed and unverified, of course-- that Shuo-Xing had lost the Mandate of Heaven. That Buddha himself smiled upon someone other than him and his progeny to rule over the Middle Kingdom. Shuo-Xing had made certain to tie up all loose ends when he’d ascended the throne after his brother’s assassination-- all but one.

The Princess Ru-Yuan, who’d been little more than a baby in arms at the time, had disappeared out of the palace overnight. Though Shuo-Xing had interrogated and tortured every last servant from the Head Chamberlain to the lowliest page who’d been a part of Tan-Xing’s royal retinue, no one had any idea where his brother’s heir might have gone. Of course, in all likelihood, she was long dead. Her mother had been dealt a mortal blow before the recklessly foolish woman had fled the palace. A gently bred lady such as the Empress Rui-Sha would not have made it far, even in a carriage, with a lethal wound and a baby in tow. Princess Ru-Yuan might well have succumbed to starvation and the elements perhaps a mere prefecture away from the capital.

But there was no proof of this, one way or another, and Shuo-Xing is nothing if not thorough. And so that morning, in an opulent palace very different from the austere temple in the mountains, the emperor calls in one of his most trusted advisers-- a woman equal to him in ruthlessness by the name of Kong Lian, and dismisses all of the servants from the chamber before giving direction to his henchwoman of her secret mission. Kong Lian acquiesces without any question, much as she had fifteen years ago when she’d dipped throwing knives in Wolfsbane oil before she’d killed a chamber-maid and infiltrated this very chamber with murderous intent, and leaves without a word. No one knows or speaks of her directives from the emperor, because no one had been present to bear witness.

Almost no one.

**

It’s perhaps a week later that Master Wu calls Li, along with Feng-Jie and Di-Mei, into his private sanctum, and his face is so grim that all three women halt in their tracks at the door.

“I received a peculiar parcel this morning, somehow dropped off without our knowledge in the middle of the night right to the altar of the Great Fire like a bequest from the Gods.” He unrolls the sturdy black broadcloth wrapped around a plain wooden chest, then unlocks the chest to reveal a gleaming pile of gold ingots, topped with a scroll and a folded fan of paper and black lacquer. Carefully, Master Wu takes out the fan first, and unfolds it to reveal a graceful watercolour of an opulent estate, shrouded in violet mist and pink cherry blossoms. ‘Royal Palace in Spring’, proclaims the graceful ink calligraphy running down the right-most fold. And the red seal underneath the title reads ‘Her Royal Highness, Princess He-Tian’. “This was painted by the daughter of Emperor Shuo-Xing, who currently sits on the golden throne. And she has also enclosed a letter.” Carefully, he unrolls the scroll, and begins to read.

“Dear Cousin Ru-Yuan, I pray to the Goddess that you live, and that this finds you before Father’s mercenary does. You are the final loose end to challenge his rule, and I don’t doubt that much harm will befall you and any who’ve sheltered you if you’re found by the wrong people. Of course, as a filial daughter, I owe Father my loyalty. But I wouldn’t want to face my Maker with innocent blood on my hands, and ours, after all, is still shared. Please take this money-- it should feed and shelter you for a while-- and run far away, out of the reach of the Imperial army and its commanders. Perhaps someday I will be able to do more, but for now, I can only ask for a forgiveness that I surely don’t deserve.”

“I don’t understand,” Li frowns up at Master Wu, then turns to the faces of her two friends, shocked at how grim they look. “What are you not telling me?”

“That letter is addressed to you, my dear.” The High Priest straightens, and sighs. “Your mother sheltered me once, as a young girl, when I happened to travel through her city and was caught in a winter storm. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen, but she’d snuck me into her father’s stables, brought me a hot meal and a blanket. I would certainly have succumbed to the elements were it not for her, and I promised her, on my life, that I’d repay her this life debt. I’d left the next morning, and she went on to become a beautiful lady, who was betrothed two years later to the heir apparent to the throne-- Prince Tan-Xing. From all accounts, they were content enough in their marriage. Tan-Xing ascended the throne, and perhaps he was not suited for ruling-- far too dreamy and impractical. The Emperor and Empress were ambushed a few years into their rule and marriage by an assassin rumoured to have been sent by his own brother, and Tan Xing was cut down immediately. His Empress, Lady Rui-Sha of the Noble House of Han, fled the palace on horseback with her young daughter, even mortally wounded. And she made it here-- the same lady who’d saved my life once upon a time-- and died soon after in our care. Your name is not Han Li, as we’ve called you, but Princess Ru-Yuan, issue of Emperor Tan-Xing. And if I am not mistaken, the current Emperor, your uncle, is looking for you to eliminate any threats to his rule. If his daughter’s warning found you here,” He gestures the chest of gold and the letter on his desk, “Then surely it is only a matter of time before the Army descends upon our Sanctuary with their spears and halberds.” The old man, in a rare gesture of affection, reaches up and pats the shell-shocked woman on her cheek. “You know that we would defend you to the last-- myself, and all your sisters and brothers here-- but I fear it would be in vain. What are twenty, thirty monks and nuns against a platoon of thousands? You should do as your cousin advises, Li, and run far, far away.”

Li, who had sunk down into a chair in shock, straightens her spine and stands, coming to a decision. “I will indeed leave, Grandpa Wu. I would not for all the gold and jade in the world let harm come to you and this place-- which has become my family and home. But I will not be running away.” In that impassioned moment, she does not notice the quick, sorrowful exchange of glances between Master Wu and the two disciples who had saved her life as all three bear witness to that instant where Li leaves the joys of carefree childhood behind forever. “I will face my fate in the capital city, and indeed, so will the one who murdered my parents.”

“I can’t stop you, but I entreat you not to let enmity and vengeance poison your heart and your spirit,” Master Wu tells her with a shake of his head. “Great warriors can be brought low by hatred as quickly as the blade. Leave tonight, little one, but do not lose your way. We will pray to the Goddess for your protection and safety.”

“And I will pray for yours, Grandpa.” Her Royal Highness Princess Ru-Yuan owes no one her allegiance, but now, she takes a knee before an elderly priest, bows her head in a gesture of respect. “Someday, when it’s safe, I will come back to see you, and help you sweep the grounds and clean the altar.”

Master Wu smiles, lifts her up to her feet. “Be safe, and be kind, Li. Your sisters will help you get ready for your journey.”


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gorgeous artwork in this chapter is the work of goldenstreakz! I am always delighted to see new blood in our little group and she did such an amazing job <3 <3

Two days later, Li saddles up her horse-- descended from the mare that her mother had ridden out of the capital city-- and takes the long, winding path down the mountain trail. With the aid of various of her brother and sister acolytes of the _Emei_ Sect, she’d purchased a good quantity of supplies for her journey, including food and provisions, as well as civilian clothing. She’d opted for male attire-- a lone man traveling on horseback certainly draws less attention than a lone woman. She stows the fan and scroll from her cousin, Princess He-Tian, in the very bottom of her traveling pack, and makes certain that she is well armed against any dangers on the road. One full quiver is strapped to her back, with two more packed on either side of the horse’s flanks for easy access. The Emei sword that she’d learned to handle from early girlhood is sharpened and oiled, and she wears that at her side, along with the golden darts used by their order for close-quarters combat up both sleeves.

Feng-Jie and Di-Mei accompany her on foot halfway down the mountain, to the furthermost of their outbuildings, and they pause at the crossroads-- one leading down into the town and the wide world out of their sphere, the other back into their peaceful mountain sanctuary. Li dismounts from the horse, letting the animal graze and drink, and turns to the identical, benevolent faces of the two novitiates who’d certainly saved her life all those years ago, and bows her head, palm over fist in the age-old gesture of respectful farewell. “We will meet again.”

“May the four winds speed your travels,” Feng-Jie replies. 

“May the Goddess bless you to the cliffs of Heaven and the corners of the sea,” Di-Mei follows. “We will pray for your safety, little sister, and your soul.”

The two make their way back up the mountain, taking to the treetops like a pair of ravens in their black robes, and Li watches their ascent until they vanish out of sight. Sighing, she turns, and spurs her horse on in the opposite direction. She’s truly alone now, for the first time in her nineteen years, and has no option but to press on down this unfamiliar path, with no possible way of knowing what was to come.

Thankfully, she reaches town without much incident, and finds an inn with stable space for the horse. Li pays for an evening’s meal and lodging, making sure to keep all of her possessions in her sight, and stations herself at a table in the far back of the common room, keeping quiet as the innkeeper’s wife brings over a gourd of wine and a plate of spicy cold noodles with shredded chicken. 

In a Buddhist mountain sanctuary, neither meat nor wine are consumed with their daily meals, and though Master Wu had never held her to the same strict precepts against either as the others, she’d never seen fit to go out of her way for either. The food is quite tasty, though heavier than what she’s accustomed to, but one sip of the wine has her eyes watering and her throat threatening to close in on itself. It smells nice enough in the gourd-- with a sweet, almost floral aroma, but burns on its way down like a bolt of fire. Li sets it aside and asks for tea.

After the meal, she locks herself in her room, sleeping in fits and starts, even with an extra chain around the door-latch and makeshift bars on the windows. An inn, even at dead of night, is a great deal noisier than a cloister in a remote temple. Downstairs, the faint sounds of carousing are audible, even as the moon rises high in the sky. Clearly, some of the guests are a great deal fonder of the wine than she is. 

In the morning, after a fitful night, she’s tired and out of sorts when she resumes her journey after a quick bite to eat. Traveling isn’t structured and regimented like days at the temple, and having no frame of reference for the amount of time it should take for any given task-- such as how many hours it should take to go between one town and another-- is frustrating to Li’s orderly soul. 

Still, lack of sleep notwithstanding, she soldiers on in the direction of the capital, using the position of the sun to guide her course. It’s around mid-afternoon, along a deserted mountain road, that she realizes in fairly short order that something is not quite right. 

The sounds of nature are quiet, a soothing sort of background noise when one is traveling through the mountains, but it is always present-- the calls of birds and small mammals, the rustle of the wind through the trees, the rush of flowing water. She’d been on the trail for the last hour, and she’d heard nothing. Even animals startled out of their natural habitats by the presence of a rider would have skittered across the road or chirped out in alarm. Unless there were no animals, because they’d all been flushed out of hiding, already. And that wouldn’t make sense, unless…

Li bends down, and urges the horse into a trot with a quick slap on the rump even as her other hand reaches towards the quiver of arrows at her back. It’s nocked and ready as the horse leads her underneath the canopy of a few tall elms, but she can’t see a target in the shadowy gloom. 

A leaf flutters down from overhead, without the aid of a breath of wind, and she lets that arrow fly by instinct more than sight. Her suspicions are quickly proven correct, though, as a man, face halfway concealed by a black kerchief, falls out of the tree with a pained cry, her arrow embedded in his shoulder, and as though on cue, a dozen more of his compatriots leap down from the canopy, weapons drawn. “Your money or your life, traveler!”

Two more arrows take down two of the highwaymen, but then they’re upon her, enraged at the fall of their comrades. Li draws her sword to defend herself and her horse-- certainly, without the animal and the items that it carried, she had very little hope of making it very far-- and she skillfully parries a blow from one of the brigands, swivels to slash a deep cut into another’s fencing arm. The highwaymen are all brute force and no finesse, but she’s greatly outnumbered, and it’s all she can do to keep them away from the horse and parcels. They bear in closer, and with a flick of her wrists, she has her golden darts fastened around her fingers as well. They’d not be enough to deliver a lethal blow unless she caught someone in a major pressure point or nicked a blood vessel, but at this point, she intends to use every weapon in her arsenal to protect herself.

She aims a fist at the closest bandit’s eyes, exultant when the sharp dart between her fingers slashes his face deep enough to send him recoiling back, then blinks in surprise when a quarterstaff-- wielded expertly by some unknown hand-- clocks several of the bandits’ heads in rapid succession. A moment later, the man wielding the staff wades into the fray, and his appearance has Li’s eyes widening in surprise.

He’s tall, and simply clad in the rough blue homespun of a farmer or a shepherd. Indeed, the staff he wielded is little more than a length of bamboo not dissimilar to a tenbin used to balance baskets of water or food on one’s shoulders up and down the mountains. But the machete at his back is not the implement of a farmer, and then again, his countenance is unlike any local that she had ever seen.

His hair is cut short, falling all over his head in tousled curls the colour of ripe wheat, and his eyes are the deep blue of a twilight sky before it goes to black. His features are symmetrical and handsome, but cast in a slightly exotic mould, like his colouring, and there’s something worldly and faintly amused in the curve of his full lips. Certainly, despite the rough clothes and simple pole-arm, he’s no farm hand, and not from around here. But he’d bought her some breathing room against the bandits, and she makes short work of disarming the rest of the ones still standing before jumping back up on her horse and galloping out of the clearing. 

She hears the sound of hooves behind her, and it’s the man from the woods with the golden hair. Well. She supposed that she owed him a word of thanks, but Li is smart enough to be suspicious. She doesn’t dismount, even though she reins in her horse so that the man can ride alongside. “You have my thanks, although I was handling it.”

“You have good form, my lady. The famed _Emei_ Sect, if I’m not mistaken. Very elegant and agile, and so it suits you well.” Those lips curve up in a smile as he cocks his head. “You’re very far from home, and not wearing the garb of a novice.”

Li raises her chin and scowls, any positive feelings of gratitude she might have had for her unknown helper vanishing in the face of his line of questioning. “I am not a novice, and I’m not wearing a lady’s garments. It’s not practical for traveling alone. I also don’t have to answer your thinly-veiled questions.”

“Indeed you don’t. But where are my manners? My name is Zhou Jin, though you can call me ‘Jin’. The surname is certainly not the one I was born with. I don’t suppose you have a name that you’re willing to share, my lady?”

“Will you stop calling me that?! The point of not being dressed as a lady is so that people won’t harass someone who appears to be an easy target.”

At that, Jin throws his head back and lets out a roar of laughter so hearty that Li feels miffed, somehow the butt of a joke that she’d never intended to make. “Oh, you’re definitely a lady, no matter what you’re wearing. Far too pretty and argumentative to be anything but. I don’t suppose it’s any of my business why a temple maiden from Mount Emei is traveling alone.”

“No more than it’s any of my business why a man dressed like a shepherd knew there were mountain bandits in this pass, and engages strangers in conversation rather than going on his way to-- wherever you were headed,” Li rejoins acidly. “I didn’t know you had a horse. You weren’t riding one when you got to that clearing.”

“Oh, I heard the sounds of an altercation, and tied him to a tree a-ways off. Harder to sneak up on someone if you’re on horseback and all that. And it’s wiser to assume that there are bandits at every pass.” He pats his horse affectionately on the head, scratching long fingers through the top of the animal’s chestnut-coloured mane, and it nickers pleasantly. “Fortunately, the bandits know just by sight that this horse is not transporting anything or anyone of value. As for being dressed like a shepherd… well. I haven’t herded sheep in some years, but I daresay that I could do it again if necessary. It’s one of those skills that you never quite forget, once you’ve mastered it. It’s not a high-demand occupation hereabouts. Sheep prefer grassland pasture to rocky mountainous terrain.”

“That’s good to know,” Li rolls her eyes. “What is your business here, then, if you’re not herding sheep or what have you?”

“Just passing through, my lady. Much like you. I don’t suppose you have a name?”

“Han Li. You may _not_ call me ‘Li’.”

“As you wish, my lady, though the name suits you very well. As I said, definitely too pretty and argumentative to be a boy.”

“Do you intend to follow me?” Li inquires with a scowl. “Because I have a long journey ahead of me, and I’m not looking for companionship. You have my thanks for the help with the bandits, but let’s go our separate ways.”

“If I’m not mistaken, we’re both riding in the direction of the next town, likely in search of a hot meal and a warm bed. If that is the case, there’s no harm in sharing this stretch of road, wouldn’t you say? Don’t look so put out, I’ll buy you a flagon of wine when we reach town, and we can toast our newfound friendship, no?”

“Absolutely not. You may keep the wine. It does not suit me.” Li glares at him over her shoulder, and spurs her horse into a brisk canter, overtaking him. He makes no effort to hasten his own pace, and she rushes onward with the echo of his laughter sounding behind her.


	4. Chapter 3

Li does not speak to anyone when she arrives in town, but searches almost immediately for a place to sup and lodge for the night. She is somewhat surprised, when she arrives at the local inn, to see Jin seated in an open area, playing a merry, rollicking tune on a bamboo vertical flute. There’s an alms-bowl by his feet, already filling up with coins, and he spots her the moment she comes in, giving her a wink and a grin without a break in his rhythm. She scowls and turns away, and studiously keeps to herself as she pays the fare for the night’s lodging and meal. Jin plays for a good hour or so, much to the enjoyment of the other patrons, melodies both cheerful and melancholy filling the air by turns. Someone buys him a flagon of wine and a plate of steamed meat buns, and he graciously thanks the stranger, making quick work of his meal before returning to his flute. By the time the moon has risen, there’s enough money in his alms-bowl to buy him an evening’s lodging in the stable’s hayloft, but not a guest room. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and makes his way outside before Li retires to her guest room for the night. 

She puts him out of her mind, and goes to sleep after taking the same precautions as the night before, but startles awake a few hours later, heart pounding in her chest, hands groping underneath the pillow for her darts as a jangling sense of wrongness fills the air. The room is quiet; a hastily-lit lamp reveals that nothing is out of the ordinary, and the bolts across her windows and doors are still in place. But something had woken her up-- and then, she hears it again. The faint sound of neighing, coming from the stables. Horses, much like people, sleep peacefully through the night after a hard day’s work. And yet something had alarmed them greatly. Li quickly throws on a tunic and trousers, and cracks one window open to peer outside. Now, faint but audible, come the sounds of a scuffle. And, blonde hair glowing in the pale moonlight, right in the center of the fray, is the man named Jin, flute in one hand, machete in the other, fighting off a trio of black-clad assailants wearing kerchiefs over their faces. 

He’s holding his own quite well from her vantage point-- seeming to prefer to deliver non-lethal blows with the slender flute aimed with deadly accuracy at pressure points rather than cutting his opponents down with the blade. She can’t quite place what style of fighting he seems to favour-- there are hints of both Northern style acrobatics and Southern style footwork, along with a mish-mash of both orthodox and unorthodox methodologies in his handling of the blade and the makeshift staff. But the somewhat academic curiosity is quickly submerged in shocked indignation when another masked assailant creeps up on him from behind, a wicked-looking scimitar raised, and Li doesn’t even think about it before drawing back her longbow and letting an arrow fly. She doesn’t aim to kill; indeed, the arrow lands with eerie precision right in the back of the man’s right arm, causing him to drop his weapon with a pained grunt, and she quickly dispatches the others in the group in similar manner from her perch at the window. A few minutes later, she meets Jin outside, and he doesn’t seem at all surprised to see her. 

“Why are there people attacking you in the middle of the night?” she asks crossly. “It woke me up.”

“And I am very sorry to hear that, my lady. I don’t think they were so much attacking me as trying to sneak in, perhaps in search of something or someone. I just happened to be sleeping outside, and heard them before they could approach the main doors.” Jin surveys the fallen group with a critical, observant eye. “They don’t strike me as the usual run-of-the-mill robbers. Black tunics are not very noticeable, sure, but theirs are all identical and don’t look as though they’ve seen much wear and tear from street life. No rips, no stains or dirty spots.” He steps up to the closest one, and uses the end of his flute to lift up the bottom hem of the man’s tunic. Tied to his belt is a well-honed blade in a leather scabbard. “No gauntness or flabbiness in the midsection, an expensive knife, and sturdily-soled shoes. This isn’t a tramp trying to steal someone’s valuables. They’re very organized and well trained. They’re not here by accident.” He tucks his bamboo flute into his waistband, then lays a firm hand on Li’s wrist and draws her out of the injured group’s earshot. “They’re still alive, but I don’t know that I care to question them on why they’re trying to sneak into this inn. That’s a problem for the local Prefect, I daresay, but we should leave. As soon as we can.”

“‘We’?”

“Well, my lady, I certainly appreciate your assistance tonight. But I don’t think we should linger around for the local law enforcement to press into court to discuss exactly how we came to be here, fighting off these folks at the dead of night. Things tend to get twisted, and not in anyone’s favour, when the authority figures get involved.” His lips quirk into a soft smile. “I daresay you’ve never been in trouble before. Definitely not the type. Let’s keep it that way.”

“So you want me to leave, right now? Tonight? In the middle of the night? With you?”

“You don’t have to leave with me, my lady. As a matter of fact, we probably shouldn’t be seen leaving together. But certainly, we’ve overstayed our welcome. Do you have a set destination?”

“Of course I do. Why would I travel away from home if I didn’t have a destination in mind?”

“Sometimes, it’s all about the journey itself-- to keep moving and exploring and learning. But now is perhaps not the time to debate life philosophy. Do you need assistance packing your things?”

“Absolutely not.” She’s not completely comfortable with the idea of having a traveling companion, but the idea of being alone on the road at the dead of night is even less appealing. “If we are to keep each other company for any duration of time, I reserve the right to keep my own counsel and not answer any questions I deem unnecessary or impertinent.”

“I won’t expect you to answer any of my questions unless it’s important, my lady.” His white teeth flash in a quick, charming grin. “All right. There is a grove of old willows on the outskirts of town, about an hour’s ride out towards the west. It will suffice to shelter us for the night, I think. I’ll meet you there, and we can both get some more rest before the morning.”

**

Li wakes up sore and out of sorts to the sounds of bird calls and a merry tenor voice singing some pastoral song, and scowls at nothing in particular as she blinks the sleep out of her eyes. Sleeping out in the open is not agreeable, even on a reasonably soft, grassy stretch of land. Unlike Jin, she did not have a bedroll, and though he’d helpfully gathered up some fallen leaves and branches for a makeshift pallet, she could not get comfortable. 

“Oh, you’re awake, my lady.” Jin appears in her line of sight, carrying what looked to be a freshly killed rabbit on a stick. “This was a good spot. I have our breakfast right here, as you see.”

She makes no comment as she stands up and stretches herself slowly, going from one stance to another. Her back and legs are sore, but she’s determined not to show it. The bits of grass and twigs clinging to her hair, however, is another story. 

“You know, willows are peculiar trees, in their way. Not only do the branches grow downward, which served us quite well last night as shelter from the elements, but they are always in need of water. In the desert, seeing a willow would mean that there’s an oasis close by. And indeed, there is a creek about fifty paces that way.” Jin points with one finger, and Li is fairly sure that there is a glint of amusement in his eye. But more importantly, she notes that his hair is damp; the colour of it is dark gold against the collar of his shirt. “I daresay that if we had more time this morning, we could’ve had fish for breakfast rather than rabbit. But fishing requires patience, whereas rabbit hunting simply requires a snare and a lure.”

“I am going to go wash,” Li says with great dignity. “Please afford me my privacy and don’t venture near the creek, nor near my belongings. Thank you.”

At that, Jin simply laughs as though she’d said something deliciously absurd. “Oh, I’ll be quite busy, I assure you. This rabbit isn’t going to skin and clean and cook itself! Actually-- might you possibly have a blade of some sort-- small, sharp and easy to handle-- in your collection? It would serve us greatly to use to prepare this rabbit.”

She has a set of ritual daggers of varying sizes used for close quarters combat, and the thought of using them for game butchery is anathema, but she begrudgingly fetches the smallest one-- its blade only slightly longer and wider than her longest finger, and hands it to him. “Don’t break my knife.”

“It’s exquisitely made, just like its owner,” Jin quips as he examines the dagger carefully. “I will take equal care.”

She doesn’t dignify this with a response, and stomps off in search of that creek.

**

The water is cold, but does the trick of not only cleaning her off but also waking her up from the poor sleep she’d had. The change of clothing that she’d left on the bank is warmed from the sun, and that brings her a bit of comfort as she makes her way back to where she’d left Jin with her knife. He has the rabbit roasting on a spit over the fire now, and hands her back her knife, perfectly cleaned and polished. “I found some straw mushrooms and wild leeks, and am boiling them with some of the bones and giblets for soup. You’ll want something warm after washing up in cold water.”

They eat the meat and soup-- both surprisingly good-- with some griddle cakes, and the dexterity with which Jin prepares everything makes Li wonder even more exactly who he is, where did he come from. He takes his time to talk to his horse as though it is an old friend, even as he rubs the animal down and feeds it an apple, and then he does the same with hers, though much like its mistress, her colt shies away from the strange hands brushing through its mane at first, before relaxing uneasily under his ministrations. They saddle up, and Jin turns to her with a smile. “So, where exactly are you headed, my lady?”

“A city to the north,” Li hedges. “You’re not privy to my plans, you know. I know nothing about you.”

“Ah, and now we’re getting somewhere. There’s not much to know, unfortunately. I was found on the steppes as an infant about twenty years ago. The family who took me in lived fairly simply-- it’s a nomadic way of life up there. They thought that I might have been a child of the people further to the north,” he gestures his bright hair. “I learned to ride and herd sheep as a child. How to call the falcons and trap wild game. It was about eight years into that life that there was an uprising-- some in-fighting amongst the Khans. It led to the deaths of the family who took me in, and I was banished to the mountains. Probably would have starved had I stayed put, but I kept on moving-- trapping grouse and squirrels for food, begging for alms whenever I reached a town. Soon enough, I was taken in by the leader of the _Kunlun_ Sect. I stayed with him and learned his teachings for a few years. His surname was Zhou, and when he took me in, he gave me it to use as mine. I was about sixteen when he died of old age, and the eldest disciple, who had never liked having a foreign foundling living on his master’s charity learning the ways of the Sect to begin with, immediately cast me out. I’ve been traveling ever since, learning something new from people in all the different walks of life. As the saying goes, flowing water stays clear, and a door-hinge never rusts. Perhaps I don’t have an end destination in mind, but I’ve never regretted the ever-changing journey.”

This accounting explains a great deal about him, Li reflects. The _Kunlun_ Sect favoured a machete or saber over a straight sword as their armament of choice, and in a mountainous, forbidding terrain mostly inhabited by nomadic shepherds and horsemen, the function of a practical wooden staff or a blade which could double in its purpose for clearing brush or hunting wild animals certainly made more sense than her own Sect’s preference for elegant archery and swordplay, delicate darts and daggers. His ever-changing destination and perhaps the people he’d met on the way-- other fighters of the _Wu-Lin_ both orthodox and unorthodox-- would explain the different techniques that he employed, the different styles. 

“I was recently made aware of some unfinished business between my parents and… someone who might have caused their deaths,” she says carefully. “I’m seeking to get to the bottom of everything, find out the truth of the matter.”

“And the enemy resides in the city you’re heading to, I take it. Is your destination very far from here?”

She nods, and he whistles. “Well, my lady, we can ride on in your general direction, see what the next town brings us. I will travel with you as long as you wish, but no longer. It is nice to have company on the road sometimes, a second pair of eyes and hands.”

The way he words it gives her the loophole she needs, so that she is left with the freedom to leave at any time, as is he. She’s not obligated to share with him any of her secrets, nor he with her any of his own burdens. Li doesn’t have the proper words to express her gratitude in a way that wouldn’t embarrass both of them, but she gives him a faint smile, and he grins, knowing its meaning.

They ride on, northward, as the sun warms the air between them.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for character death and violence in this chapter

The Golden Temple’s bells are tolling, but not for morning prayer. 

The altar room is ransacked, a desecration of its holiness and serenity, and a legion of infantrymen in armour are stationed at every door and window, with more crowded inside, halberds and spears drawn, holding the acolytes at bay. Sitting impertinently at the very side of the Buddha statue in an attitude of callous detachment is a tall woman with flame-red hair that almost matches the crimson trim on her armour. Clíodhna, known as Kong Lian, is Emperor Shuo-Xing’s occasional lover and right-hand henchwoman, a foreign-born warrior woman whose ambition and bloodlust matched the Emperor’s own, and her power and standing at Court are absolute, second only to His Majesty himself. At her feet, bound and gagged, are Feng-Jie and Di-Mei, ambushed unawares when they went about their daily tasks of summoning the group for morning prayer. The army under Kong Lian’s command had quickly subdued the few acolytes who had attempted to come to the sisters’ rescue, but at their general’s command, left them alive. 

“We’ve found their leader, Commander.” 

One of the captains of the platoon strides in, a gang of armed infantrymen trailing behind him with a diminutive old man in the garb of a High Priest in their clutches. Master Wu’s face is severely beaten; one eye is swollen shut, and a thin trail of blood is dripping from his mouth. His breath catches at the sight of Feng-Jie and Di-Mei bound and gagged by the altar, but he says nothing. 

“Ah, the great revered head of the _Emei_ Sect is nothing but a bumbling old fool, I see,” Kong Lian’s voice is a purr of dark amusement. “But even bumbling old fools have their uses, and so will you.” She straightens, and her eyes grow cold on her pale, hard-featured face. “I’ve had to take a good amount of time interrogating the former Empress’ brother. His whole family had been imprisoned for the last twelve years, wouldn’t you know, but no one would say a damned thing until I’d subjected the youngest son to the Death by Thousand Cuts in front of the rest. Then, they had quite the adorable bedtime story to tell-- about a doddering old monk seeking shelter on a winter’s night, and how their soft-hearted, soft-headed eldest sister had lodged the tramp in their stables. Well, a life for a life, isn’t that how the saying goes?” 

Eyes icy, she draws a wicked, jagged blade, the sound ringing in the ominous silence of the altar room. “Wolfsbane oil. So commonplace, every Apothecary has it. It’s a terrible, painful death, you know.” She saunters up to Feng Jie, uses that blade to shear off a jagged lock of the woman’s dark hair, before pressing it to her throat even as she stares at Master Wu.

“I know you’ve sheltered the Princess Ru-Yuan. Where is she?”

In the blink of an eye, Feng-Jie catches the gaze of the High Priest, then smiles and closes her eyes, her meaning clear even without a word being said. Nonetheless, the old man closes his own eyes, a single tear escaping, barely visible through the bruising and blood. 

“I don’t know,” he answers, his voice hollow, knowing quite well that though the words are honest ones, they meant certain doom for the faithful novitiate under Kong Lian’s poisoned blade. The female mercenary gives a flick of her wrist, light and careless, and a thin line of blood appears on Feng-Jie’s neck-- nothing more than a scratch. Within moments, though, the woman is curled up on the floor, her body going through convulsions of agony as the poison hits her bloodstream. With supreme indifference, Kong Lian takes a step to the left, presses that same blade to Di-Mei’s neck, and repeats her question.

“Where is the Princess Ru-Yuan?”

Di-Mei, ever the bolder and more maverick of the twins, jolts against the blade, allowing it to pierce her skin before anyone can even respond to Kong Lian’s question. Her gag falls loose at the movement even as a bloody line appears, much like her twin’s, at her neck. Her black eyes fix on Kong Lian’s face and her voice escapes in a hiss. “Buddha has eighteen levels of Hell for the likes of you, viper!” A moment later, however, she’s also prostrate on the floor, body seizing, white foam rising from her lips. 

Kong Lian glares in the manner of an impatient teacher dealing with a dim-witted pupil who had just blundered a test. “Your Buddha is nothing more than an ugly gilded statue, and Hell is already here for you.” Her wintry eyes fall upon Master Wu again. “I can kill off your disciples, one by one. They will all die in agony, and your great _Emei_ Sect will be lost to legend before my army vacates this mountain. Or I can leave you alive, so your stupid, paltry life’s work is not all in vain. All you have to do is tell me the whereabouts of Princess Ru-Yuan.”

“Better to die standing than to live kneeling,” Master Wu returns, his voice quiet and implacable, his eyes solemn but determined. “This body is just a vessel. My Maker will shelter me in my new home. You will never find what you seek here, though you may empty every box and upturn every basin, Commander.”

Kong Lian lets out a hissing noise of disgust, and at her gesture, the infantrymen drop Master Wu onto the ground like a sack of potatoes. “I’m done dallying with the lot of them,” she snaps at one of the officers under her command. “Gather them all into one of the outbuildings and burn it.”

Without even sparing a glance at the soldiers busily fulfilling her orders, she stares moodily at the fire still burning at the altar. “Where are you, little princess? Where could you possibly be hiding?”


	6. Chapter 5

Jin is, somewhat to Li’s surprise, a good traveling companion with a talent for filling otherwise long, boring, arduous days on the road with activity and even laughter. On the first day, he sweet-talks a local farmer into selling her some horse blankets and linens to make into her own bedroll, as well as some other odds and ends that he deems useful for being on the road-- rope, a flask of medicinal wine, a flint chip for starting fires and a standard kitchen knife. He seems to have an endless supply of songs and stories and anecdotes in his repertoire as they pick their ways through the trails. Li does not have as many tales to share-- life at the temple had been regimented and on the austere side as befit a religious establishment-- but she listens, rather fascinated. 

_Anything might happen in the real world-- on a lonely stretch of road, or in a seedy pub, or in a city teeming with decadence and corruption. You’d best be prepared for the best and the worst at all times, my lady._

They reach a fairly large town-- a small city, truth be told-- about a fortnight after the midnight battle at the inn, and she suspects that they could have made better time had they taken a more direct route, rode harder and faster. But Jin had argued, quite logically, that it was worth traveling the less populated routes to avoid more highwaymen, and it served no purpose to tire out the horses. By then, her colt had come to see the golden-haired interloper as his new best friend, and ate wild apples and long grass out of his hand with the docility of a contented puppy, nuzzling and nipping at Jin’s hair and shoulders with obvious affection. Li would have resented it if there wasn’t something strangely heartwarming about it all.

She’s more iffy about his decision to head straight to the local tavern, but he patiently explains the reasoning behind it. “The local watering hole is always a good place to meet people, gather up information. You can tell a lot about a town’s residents from drinking a cup of wine with them. All walks of life, be they aristocracy or poor peasants looking for a bit of respite from their daily labor, are welcomed within, as long as they have the coin for their victuals and lodging. Besides, nothing loosens up a reluctant tongue more easily than a bit of drink. The government could take lessons-- any local Prefect or Magistrate would learn a great deal more by sharing a meal and a flagon with someone than interrogation and threats and torture. The Khans on the steppes always preceded diplomatic conferences with many toasts of _Airag_ for a reason.”

“ _Airag_?”

“It is fermented mare’s milk, one of the most commonplace of the spirits consumed on the steppes.”

Li wrinkles her nose; the idea of soured, alcoholic milk-- from a horse, no less-- doesn’t sound appealing to her in the least, but she allows him his reasoning behind visiting the tavern. “Will you be playing for your supper again?” She gestures the bamboo flute at his side. 

“It depends. Some places are good for such, and some frown upon it.”

The tavern is lively with business and a veritable army of scurrying serving-maids and kitchen lads, and Jin declares it not to be a suitable place to sing or play for his supper. Li isn’t quite sure of how he makes his money or how much he actually has, but he always seemed to have enough to get by, and tonight is no exception. He greets the proprietress merrily as he walks in, and when they find a table, lays down enough silver for a gourd of wine and a simple meal for both of them-- braised pork and spicy tofu with two bowls of rice. 

As Jin had anticipated, there are people from all walks of life milling about, enjoying an evening or perhaps, as they are, simply passing through. There are overheard snatches of conversation-- a bit of malcontent with the amount of feudal tributes demanded by the ruling class, some vague lamenting about the recent death of a great talent in the _Wu-Lin_ , as well as the more prosaic problems of everyday life. The cost of tea was rather dear in the marketplace today, apparently. And someone’s precocious but naughty son had outraged his parents, his nanny and his tutor in one fell swoop after some outrageous prank. 

“ _Wei_ , Zhou Jin, you rascal, how are you?”

A hearty male voice shouts clear across the tavern, and within moments, a tall, broad-shouldered man in tattered garments approaches their table. Despite the shabbiness of his garb and the well-patched collection of bags tied to his waistband, there’s something commanding about him-- his face is somewhat tanned from the sun and alert, crowned with waves of dark hair like a warlord’s. Jin grins at the sight of the man, who is apparently a friend he must have met on his travels. “Master Nai. I’d say you’re a sight for sore eyes, but that wouldn’t be true.”

“I was never blessed with a pretty face like you, Brother Jin, but I’ve learned to accept my fate with aplomb. What brings you here, and who might your traveling companion be?” Master Nai, despite his beggarly appearance, turns towards Li with beady-eyed interest, which morphs into a surprisingly charming grin. “Well, you’re not often found in company, but when you are, it’s certainly exceptional.” He bows with considerable gallantry at Li, and introduces himself. “Nai Fu-Rui, an Elder of the Beggars' Sect. It’s an honour to meet someone so venerable.”

“I beg your pardon?” Li is resigned, somewhat, to the fact that Master Nai, much like Jin, most likely saw through her disguise and recognized her as a woman, but certainly there was nothing particularly ‘venerable’ about her traveling garb, though it’s undoubtedly in better condition than his fluttering rags. And no one knew of her actual true identity, of that she was fairly certain.

Master Nai glances around the room, then leans in, lowering his voice to a whisper which can’t carry farther than the confines of their table. “The Emei Sword and bow you carry, my lady. Their presence has not been seen of late on the _Jiang-Hu_ , even by my brethren, who are spread far and wide all across the nation. You must be the newest Sect Leader, and as such, deserve every bit of respect and veneration as befits that station. I’ve once had the honour of facing off a disciple of the _Emei_ Sect in a friendly match, and the swordplay skills that he’d exhibited were some of the finest and most elegant I’ve ever seen.”

Li straightens up to look into the stranger’s face, finding no hints of deception or malice, but something about what he says makes no sense, and a deep sense of wrongness starts to rise in her chest. “What do you mean, newest Sect Leader? I’m not a Sect Leader. I’m not even an Elder Disciple or anyone important to the temple. Master Wu is the Sect Leader, and has been for the last twenty years.”

Master Nai, so self-assured but a moment ago, now has the distinctly discomfitted look of a man about to break some very bad news. “Oh. You… must not have heard.” He glances at Jin for help, but Jin looks as concerned and inquisitive as Li. He glances around the room, and finds no escape, and grimaces. “The Imperial Army, led by that foreign-born demoness whom the Emperor favours so highly, stormed Mount Emei for some unknown mission, and proceeded to round up and kill all the disciples present, including the High Priest. It’s a sacrilegious outrage to human decency, plain and simple, and so senseless! The _Emei_ Sect had always been one of the most righteous and revered organizations in the _Wu-Lin_ , and to be wiped out by that vicious pit viper at the injunction of a tyrant! We’d all hoped, of course, that there’d be someone left to keep their legacy alive.”

Li feels the air-- so busy and noisy with activity but a moment ago-- thin out, then disappear like sunlight behind a storm cloud. She’s not even aware that she has moved until the teapot that had just been set down on their table shatters on the ground with a bang and a splash of steaming water. Dimly, she’s aware of Jin’s restraining arm on her wrist, but she fights him off, blindly stabbing at his fingers with her darts. Instead of fighting back, he reaches for her, and then ducks as she lashes out at him again. “Li, let’s take this outside. You don’t want to do this in here, with all these people.” His voice echoes strangely, like it’s coming from up a mountain, far away. _Oh, Gods!_

A series of rapid jabs in the back of her neck and her back, and Li collapses, nerveless, falling forward into Jin’s arms. She’s still conscious-- the manipulation of her pressure points is expert-- and sees Jin’s grim eyes meet Master Nai’s-- it must have been the Beggars' Sect Elder who’d subdued her from behind, for their order is as famed for their palm and hand techniques and staff-work as hers is-- _was!_ \-- for their swordplay and archery. Jin picks her up as easily as he would a sack of grain, and carries her outside, and waits until they are quite a distance away from the tavern before he gently taps another series of pressure points to reset the facility of her limbs. 

She feels the grief and rage bubbling up even as she struggles to a standing position, and beats at Jin’s chest with her fists. He still doesn’t fight her, but holds her firmly yet gently, and the sight of his bloodied knuckles-- from where her darts had pierced them-- on her forearms blurs after a moment with her tears. He senses them before they can fall, it seems, because a moment later, he softens his hold, and the hand that had been wrapped around her right forearm moves back to cup the back of her head, guiding it onto his shoulder. Li sobs, remembering Feng-Jie and Di-Mei’s identical cheeky smiles, Master Wu’s patient hands guiding hers as he’d helped her pull back a bowstring for the first time as a girl of five. She’d left them to keep them safe, but apparently that hadn’t been enough. 

She doesn’t know how long they stood out there, at the outskirts of town, with her weeping and wailing in Jin’s arms, but it’s full dark when she finally lifts her aching head, and her voice is hoarse and ragged when she speaks. “It’s my fault.”

“These things, unfortunately, happen all the time in the world,” Jin says soberly. “Innocent people die because of the actions of a guilty few who don’t consider, or care about, the consequences of their whims. Politically-motivated bloodshed. But you cannot blame yourself for not being there-- chances are, you would’ve perished, too.”

“No,” Li lifts eyes nearly swollen shut with tears up to his face. “You don’t understand. That army was looking for me.”

Jin frowns down at her, even as his arms continue to hold her loosely against his chest. “Now why would you say that, my lady?”

“My name is not really Han Li,” she whispers, then takes a deep breath before she divulges to this stranger-who-had-become-a-friend her deepest secret. “It is actually Princess Ru-Yuan, the only daughter of the former Emperor Tan-Xing and his Empress Rui-Sha of the Noble House of Han. I was raised by the disciples on Mount Emei after my father was murdered and my mother fled the palace, mortally wounded. She’d saved the life of the High Priest once upon a time, and thought to hide me away, somewhere safe, where the current Emperor and his minions could not find me. But they’d been searching for years, and when it became clear that they were on my tail, I left, to keep my brothers and sisters safe. But they were killed, anyway!”

She thought she’d wept out all her tears, but it was apparently not so, for fresh ones welled up just then. Jin had stiffened in shock at her revelation, but somewhat to her surprise, he hadn’t stepped away. Gingerly, as though for the first time in his life he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands, he wiped at her damp cheeks with his fingertips, then drew them sharply away, and huffed out a slow, stunned breath. “So. When you said that you were headed to a city in the north, to confront a person who’d caused the death of your parents, you meant…”

“The Capital, and the current Emperor, my uncle,” Li confesses in a whisper, then draws back, turns her face away. “This isn’t your problem, Jin. You don’t need to get entangled in these horrible plots. Obviously, even the thought of this constitutes High Treason, and is punishable by death, and from all accounts, the Imperial Army has no mercy for bystanders or concerns about collateral damage.” The thought of that beautiful mountain sanctuary overrun and defiled by a marauding troop brings another bout of fresh tears to her eyes. “You should just leave, and remember me as just another strange acquaintance you’d made on your travels.”

“Well. I suppose that it explains the midnight attack at that inn, with those black-clad assailants,” Jin remarks, apropos of nothing. Li steals a glance at him, and his eyes are meditative. “I did think they were too organized and well-trained for the usual breed of country ruffians. They might well have been mercenaries hired by your uncle or his henchmen to search for you.”

“And now they recognize your face, without a doubt, and since you left them alive, will almost certainly put a bounty on your head,” Li whispers, and raises her tear-swollen eyes to his face. “You should leave, Jin. Flee like the west wind. You’ve been kind to me. I won’t forget it. But I can’t have another death on my conscience.”

“And leave you to fend for yourself against assassins and soldiers alike, I take it? I don’t know if I could have that on my conscience either.” Jin gives her a wry smile, but his blue eyes are almost as sad as hers over the ironic curve of his lips. “I’ve been leaving people behind my whole life. Maybe that’s my problem.”

“This isn’t your battle,” Li protests feebly. The crying bout-- and she so seldom indulges in one-- has left her feeling achey and leached of energy. “I wouldn’t have someone risking their lives and their souls to… to do this just so I’m not doing it alone.”

“Mmm.” He still has an arm loosely wrapped around her back, absently supporting her even though he’s certainly reconsidering his next steps if he had an iota of sense or self-preservation. “How about we compromise, my lady? I will travel with you, for as long as you wish. After all, it’s just a journey, much like any other. A second pair of eyes and hands would benefit us both on the road.” That familiar quirk of his lips flashes for a moment before he continues. “And… once you tire of me, or arrive at your destination, you’re free to go and do whatever you wish. I will not entangle myself in these horrible plots, for as you say, it isn’t my battle. But for the time being, I enjoy your company. And you do have a beautiful horse. I think I can discern some Ferghana blood in his lineage, in the shape of his head and the length of his withers.”

“He was born of the mare that my mother rode out of the city. Perhaps Imperial stock. I wouldn’t know.”

“That would explain it, then. I would miss him, and I think he would miss me,” Jin said cheekily, and as intended, his statement cajoled a weak smile out of her. 

“That’s if your horse, and mine, are still where we left them. We did leave the tavern in a bit of a hurry.”

“Master Nai would have seen to it,” Jin reassures her, then gives her a long, assessing look. “As a matter of fact, it would not be unwise to talk to him some more. The Beggars’ Sect has the best intel on the _Jiang-Hu_. And any pointers he might give us for combat would be useful, too. I’d learnt how to wield a quarterstaff from a member of the Beggars’ Sect some years ago, but a refresher and further instruction wouldn’t be amiss. I doubt that we’ve seen the last of any pursuant mercenaries, at any rate.”

It’s a sensible suggestion, and piques Li’s interest. Certainly, if she had any intention of cutting her way through an army of Royal Guards and Army Officers, she’d need every single skill she could learn at her disposal. “Would he teach me, do you think?”

“If you show him some of that Emei swordplay or archery, I don’t doubt that he’d do so quite willingly. It’s a fair exchange of knowledge and skill. But if not… well, we could always buy him a nice hearty meal and a good bottle of wine. The Beggars' Sect tends to live rather frugally, to say the least, and he looks like the sort who’d enjoy a nice meaty roast rather than rice porridge, wouldn’t you say?”


	7. Chapter 6

Master Nai does, indeed, agree to show both of them a few of the Beggars’ Sect’s most highly-prized skills, including nine out of eighteen forms of unarmed combat and the first three forms of their quarterstaff technique, in exchange for learning the archery of the _Emei_ Sect. When Li throws in, at Jin’s suggestion, a sumptuous meal at one of the most renowned local eateries, he agrees to six forms of quarterstaff technique. They make quite the evening of it-- feasting on two flavours of hot pot and roasted duck smoked in tea leaves and fish stew with pickled vegetables. Though Li abstains, the two men also polish off a gourd of wine between them, and reminisce about times on the _Jiang-Hu_ both merry and tragic. Master Nai also divulges a little bit more information about the foreign-born female lieutenant, Kong Lian.

“It’s said that His Majesty made the acquaintance of that woman on a diplomatic journey when he was still a mere duke, and witnessed her executing someone or another in some savage religious rite to augur a good harvest. They were drawn together like magnets-- it was clear from the start that they shared a great deal of common qualities. He offered her countless riches and power to leave her nation for our prosperous kingdom, if she’d assist him in all his endeavours. I feel quite sure that if it’d be an acceptable thing, he would have taken her on as High Consort after the death of his first wife, but even a tyrant knows that having a common-born foreigner sitting at his side on the Golden Throne would not be accepted by the people. Still, her powers are all but absolute-- they say even the Crown Princess defers to Kong Lian in court, though she is, at least, of royal lineage.”

And yet, Princess He-Tian had tried, in her secretive, enigmatic way, to warn her of the impending danger. “And what do the people say about the Crown Princess?”

“Princess He-Tian was born sickly and far too early to a lovely but frail noblewoman consort who died in childbirth sixteen winters ago. She was not expected to live out her first year, but against the odds, she survived. They say that she is seldom seen outside of her chambers because of her fragile health, but the Emperor had seen fit to give her an excellent education nonetheless. She is known to be an accomplished artist, musician and poet as well as a formidable player of Go. She is always accompanied by the same three servants-- a warrior eunuch who trained amongst the disciples of Shaolin Temple, a governess and instructress in arts and classics, and a lady who’d been her nursemaid since infancy. All three are known to be loyal to her and her alone. She defers to Kong Lian in all public settings and does not involve herself in any of the court intrigues, but on odd occasions, when the Emperor is poised to make a particularly harsh ruling or Kong Lian is ready to carry out some exorbitantly ruthless punishments on the people, those who’d otherwise face certain and gruesome deaths are rescued and spirited away mysteriously, and never to be seen or heard from again by those in power in the Capital. I would say that she is not to be underestimated. Still waters run deep, as the saying goes, and there are none so still as her.”

The quarterstaff and palm techniques that he teaches them are rather the antithesis of the Emei style-- certainly less delicate and graceful, but forceful and powerful. Li has a hard time adapting at first to fighting with a staff-- no more than a length of chopped bamboo-- so crude and blunt in contrast to the graceful stilettos and edged weaponry of Emei, but Master Nai is quite good humoured and patient even with her blunders, and explains that even the poorest of beggars could always find or make a wooden stick as an armament, even if he or she couldn’t get their hands upon anything fashioned with steel. 

It gratifies her just a little that he is as clumsy with a longbow as she is with a staff during his first lesson, and many an arrow flies wide before he gets the hang of it. But she, too, outlines the usefulness of that tool-- “Even if a beggar can’t afford to buy a bowl of porridge, it costs nothing to shoot a pigeon or a squirrel for his or her dinner.” 

They spend a few weeks at the outskirts of that city, training in a forest clearing on their new techniques, while Master Nai enters the city proper at dusk every evening to convene with his network of beggar brethren and returns in the mornings with fresh intel. It is discovered that despite the cruel and senseless slaughter of the _Emei_ Sect’s disciples, the majority of the temple and its treasures and sutras-- both religious and martial-- were left intact. Indeed, it would have garnered widespread outrage amongst the general populace to see such precious cultural artifacts destroyed by a marauding military, and even the tyrant on the throne was savvy enough to recognize this fact. “That means, my lady, that whether you like it or not, you might well be the new Sect Leader if no one else of a more senior position surfaces. Perhaps once you have concluded your business, you’ll consider taking on that mantle of responsibility. It’d certainly be a pity, to say the least, if the teachings and skills of the Emei died with Master Wu.”

Li does not answer either affirmatively or negatively. It’s still too raw and painful to discuss her beloved “Grandpa” aloud, and certainly she’d never considered taking on a leadership role at the temple as part of her life’s work. Moreover, there is no point in making too many plans for a future which may never come into fruition when so many unknowns hung in the balance. Every little bit of new information gained about the Emperor and Kong Lian reinforces just how difficult, if not impossible, it would be to confront either of them and live to tell the tale.

One day about a month after she’d received the devastating news about the attack on Mt. Emei, Master Nai suggests something rather unorthodox to further her training. 

“You know, as much as I hate to say so, it might be beneficial to learn to fight fire with fire,” he muses as they prepare a midday meal of ‘Beggar’s chicken’ out in the wilds, which consisted of a whole chicken wrapped in clay and lotus leaves and cooked over hot coals in a hole dug into the ground, so named because of the tradition that only a beggar would cook something thus, outdoors, without a stove or an open flame which might attract the wrong type of attention. “You have a solid foundation in orthodox training, and certainly some of the best _qing-gong_ and skill with a bladed weapon that I have ever seen. But your opponent is not an honourable fighter, and here, both Brother Jin and I would have no basis to instruct you. You’d need to know every dirty trick in the book to defeat Kong Lian, I’d think, and only if you defeat her would you have even a prayer of confronting the Emperor.”

“What would you suggest, then? Should I take some pointers from Miss Mu-Dan when she throws empty bamboo steamers at you?” Strangely, though he was certainly rough around the edges, she’d developed a sort of fraternal camaraderie with Master Nai, and in some ways he was easier to talk to than Jin, who had a disconcerting habit of watching her with those tranquil blue eyes which made her feel infuriatingly ill-at-ease. She even felt comfortable enough around the sturdy, broad-shouldered beggar to tease him for his ongoing flirtation with a particularly no-nonsense street vendor whose buxom good looks were only exceeded by her impatience with Nai’s frequent compliments-- both of her beauty and of the steamed pork buns she sold. 

“Oh, don’t let her fool you-- my future wife, my lovely peony-flower, adores me! But no, I was thinking perhaps you two should pay a visit to Zuo Xiu-Cai. His residence is perhaps only three days’ ride out from here. If anyone would be a good instructor for the unorthodox methods, he’d be it.”

“Scholar Zuo?” Jin pulls a face at the very mention of that name. “I know him. He’s unstable and psychotic and an infamous assassin. The last ‘friendly’ spar he engaged in with someone, his opponent was bedridden for a week from internal injuries. As I understand it, he only spared the man’s life as a concession to the ‘friendly’ nature of the match. I don’t know if it’d be a good idea to even bring Li into his presence, let alone leave her to his tender mercies.”

“He’s mellowed out a bit since he’d gotten married, or so they say. Even murderous miscreants have occasionally been known to care about a few odd people here and there.” Master Nai turns to Li, and at her befuddled expression, hastens to explain himself. “Zuo Zeng-Yan is an eccentric genius-- a trained Scholar and gentleman, as his title of 'Xiu-Cai' implies. It is unclear where he’d learned his martial arts, for there is certainly nothing orthodox about his methods or his preferences. He favours poisons and peculiar weapons and his forms are often set to the rhythms of music and poetry and inflict great damage on his opponents’ _Qi_. His ancestral villa is quite beautiful, and a mere few days’ ride from here. He’d be versed in the sorts of underhanded, untraditional fighting techniques likely to be employed by Kong Lian and her ilk. If you can convince him to help you, he’d certainly be a useful ally.”

“And how do you propose I talk him into helping me?” Li asks drolly. “From what you say, he doesn’t seem particularly inclined towards altruism or charity.”

Nai looks taken aback at that question. “Now _that_? I have no idea. Just try not to die, I suppose. He’d respect that, I’m sure.”


	8. Chapter 7

“So how well do you know this Scholar Zuo individual, exactly?” Li asks Jin that night as they prepare for a night’s rest. Instead of lodging in an inn or camping outside, they’d been taken in by a kindly old farmer and his wife, in exchange for some odd jobs that Jin had offered to help with around the little homestead. So it was that they were given two small cots in a snug outbuilding after Jin had spent a day picking chives and napa cabbage, gathering eggs and feeding pigs. He’d been a muddy mess after the work, but hadn’t complained about it, simply laughing at Li’s dubious expression before going to wash off in a nearby creek. Li had not been able to help the farm-wife with many of her tasks, including making bean curd and fermenting rice wine, but she’d offered to help with the mending, and patched up quite a few threadbare tunics and trousers. The farm-wife had marveled at her neat, tiny stitches, and seemed rather disappointed that she wasn’t more artistically inclined with embroidery and the like. 

Jin tilts his head with a thoughtful look on his face. “Scholar Zuo is wealthy and well-born, from a great family known for both arts and warfare alike. One would have expected him to train at one of the great orthodox schools such as _Wudang_ and he was indeed sent in at a young age to train with an Elder at the _Quanzhen_ Sect, but perhaps in the way of wealthy, handsome young men who have never been denied anything in their lives, he balked at the ascetic lifestyle and strict rules, and left in a disrespectful manner after completing only a portion of his training. Naturally, his family’s money and clout hushed up any potential scandal, but that sort of thing is not looked upon kindly amongst the warriors of the _Jiang-Hu_. He was shunned by quite a few great masters when he’d come across them in his travels, and, naturally, beaten soundly by a few more in different spars.” 

“He doesn’t sound like the sort of man we should seek out, then.” Li murmurs with a frown. “Especially if he’d been shunned by so many. I’m surprised Master Nai would bring him up.”

“Well, perhaps his defeats had taught him some humility, or perhaps his pride rankled him enough that he decided to apply himself harder. He disappeared for a few years far into the western regions-- through the deserts and the high mountains-- and returned a changed man-- hair lightened to copper, eyes flashing green fire, as they say, perhaps from alchemical experiments. He’d also learned how to fight, but not in the standard way, with sword or saber or staff or spear, but the way a hired killer would be trained to fight-- poisons and pressure points and throwing knives and the like. The classical education that he’d received in his youth, all the accoutrements of a gentleman of music, Go, calligraphy and painting, are used to enhance his skills.”

These, indeed, are all concepts rather foreign to Li. “I’ve only known structured, traditional training. All of this sounds rather bizarre. How would calligraphy and music have anything to do with fighting an enemy, when they are clearly the arts of peace?”

“In one notorious incident, he was in pursuit of a man who had supposedly absconded with a novitiate from the cloister of Mount Putuo. The man had taken his hostage into a heavily guarded fortress and locked himself up in the uppermost tower. There wasn’t any way to break in, of course, so Zuo sat outside that tower that night and played on a _guqin_ from dusk until dawn-- music so deadly with his inner _Qi_ that they found the man dead in his bed, bleeding out through all of his orifices. All the china and glass in the tower had shattered from the sound waves. He’s also been suspected, though it has never been proven, of various assassinations, mostly of corrupt gentry who have been accused of accepting bribes or molesting girls for sport. He’s rich, unprincipled, highly intelligent and not known for being particularly friendly towards visitors.”

“Do you think he’d be willing to help me?”

“Well. You could order him to. You outrank him, technically. He might be of an aristocratic background, but you’re descended from royalty.” Jin’s laugh is soft and wry in the quiet little room. They’ve certainly slept in closer quarters outside, where sheltered flat ground often meant placing their bedrolls side by side, but it felt more intimate, somehow, in this little outbuilding of a shabby homestead, enclosed within four walls. If he reached across the room with his left arm and she reached across with her right, they could touch hands. At that unbidden thought, she blushes, though certainly it’s too dark for him to see. 

“I doubt that someone like him would take kindly to being ordered about, especially by a woman.”

“Well, they do say that he’s become a better sort after he married. A woman-- the right woman-- could inspire a man to move a range of mountains and cross a perilous sea just to see her smile. If Zuo loves his wife so much that he can change willingly to be a better man, he might well be willing to take orders from a woman, social mores notwithstanding.”

“I wouldn’t truly know,” Li admits in the soft, quiet darkness. “We had male and female disciples alike at Mount Emei, but everyone was treated equally. Then again, in a devout Buddhist temple, relations of that nature were forbidden, too. Everyone was celibate and kept to their own quarters.”

“There is no power greater and more devastating in the world than a beautiful woman’s smile. Wars have been fought over it, families and clans and dynasties have risen to power and been torn apart by it, in equal measure. And unlike a lovely flower in a garden or caged songbird, a woman has her own will, her own mind, and cannot ever be truly possessed, though a man may try. And in that desire, in that unreachable ambition, he will be capable of the greatest and most terrible feats of his life. And when a man truly loves a woman, her joys are his greatest triumphs, and her sorrows are his deepest despair. And you, my lady, are one of the most compelling women I have ever come across within my travels. If it is Scholar Zuo’s assistance you seek, I feel sure that you will secure it.”

Shortly after, Jin’s breath evens out into the rhythm of sleep, but Li, wondering at the meaning behind his words, can’t get comfortable, even though the farm cot is quite a bit softer and warmer than a bedroll out in the open. It’s almost dawn when she finally dozes off, and bright enough outside that she can see, through the dim light coming in from the narrow window, that Jin had turned towards her in the night, his hand halfway reaching across her way. 

**

The villa of Scholar Zuo is a lovely series of buildings all red columns and green tiles set amidst extensive gardens filled with unusual flowers and plants. Rather than the typical orchids and peonies and roses, there are dreamy blue plots of columbine and delphinium and hyacinth, and strange vines and bushes with glossy berries of red and black and white. Delicate pink bleeding hearts and crimson poppies line the path that leads to the main gate, and lush purple wisteria and white oleander blossoms scent the air overhead. Despite the beauty of the plants, there’s something quiet and ominous about the garden, and instinctively, Li draws closer to Jin as they make their way up the path. 

“All these plants are poisonous,” Jin says in a whisper. “Effects range from blistering one’s skin to stopping one’s heart. Don’t touch anything.” 

There’s the sound of a voice up ahead, smooth and cultured, reciting lines from “The Song of Everlasting Sorrow”, but as they draw closer, the poetry stops abruptly, and then a shrill blast from a whistle sounds instead. There’s a dry, scratchy sound, not dissimilar to the crunch of dry leaves under one’s feet in late autumn, and then Jin shouts in alarm and pushes Li behind him as a cobra, seemingly out of nowhere, slithers into their path with its hood raised. 

Soft footsteps follow, and then a young woman with a sweet face and hair clipped short like a Buddhist nun steps into view. She catches sight of Jin and Li, and then shakes her head in an almost embarrassed way before calling back. “Zeng-Yan, call off the serpent! You should greet your guests first before scaring them half to death!” She turns back towards Jin and Li, and smiles as she gives a brief bow. “Meng Shui-Yin, formerly An-Ming of Putuo Mountain. And who might you two be?”

“Travelers Zhou Jin and Han Li here, to seek an audience with Zuo Xiu-Cai,” Jin says quickly, returning her bow even as he edges away from the hissing snake. 

The infamous Scholar Zuo joins them himself, a moment later, and he doesn’t really look the part of a ruthless assassin, Li reflects. Tall and slender of build and languidly elegant in the way of a noble-born man of leisure, he steps up to the young woman, sharing a quick glance that almost seemed to be a battle of wills before he extracts a silver whistle from the folds of his silk tunic and blows a quick trill. The cobra slithers off in the opposite direction to vanish somewhere into the foliage, and Zuo surveys Jin and Li with eyes green and lustrous as jade. His hair, elegantly queued, shines a darker gold than Jin’s. His gaze focuses on Li’s face, and then he cocks an eyebrow after a moment of intense scrutiny, lips curving up in a sardonic sort of smile even as he executes a gracefully disdainful bow. “Well, I find myself in exalted company indeed. What brings a direct relation of His Majesty to my humble abode, unannounced? Whatever name you might have given to my beloved, who are you, really?”

There’s very little point in prevaricating, not when one had been so blatantly recognized, but Li hedges, nonetheless. “How did you know, if I may ask?”

Zuo raises a haughty eyebrow. “My family has served in court and on the battlefield for the last seven generations, Your Highness. Though the last direct link to the royal court was my eldest cousin as a Junior Minister of Rites for the preceding Emperor, I’ve certainly been around the royal family enough to recognize one of their issue. It’s the eyes, Your Highness. No one else has that colour but those in the royal line. So I must repeat my question-- who are you?”

“The daughter of the preceding Emperor whom your cousin served in court,” Li admits. “I wasn’t raised there, with… well. I don’t have to explain what happened to my parents. I’m sure you know quite well.”

“What I don’t know, I can infer,” Zuo nods, then raises a slim, manicured hand to his chin, eyes speculative as they stare at her face. “You carry a distinct sword and longbow, Your Highness. And news is all over the _Jiang-Hu_ that the Emperor’s forces all but decimated one of the most well-known schools of religion and warfare in a raid. I can’t help but think that this is not a coincidence, and can certainly deduce the reasoning. But what doesn’t fit in the picture is the fact that you have landed on my doorstep.” A mocking, self-deprecating smile crosses his lips again. “I am but a lowly Scholar, no high official of the court. I prefer to live out my life here, quite a number of provinces away from the Capital, and keep my freedom and leisure. Perhaps it is unambitious of me, but the life of fame and servitude and flattery and intrigue does not appeal to me when instead I can enjoy the comforts of a tranquil garden and games of Go with my beloved. I don’t need the money that a life of civil service would bring, and the constant upheaval is not worth my time. If you feel like I am your missing piece, with the ability to break you into the court, you are unfortunately mistaken.”

“I don’t even know if it’s possible to break into court, but it was suggested to us to seek you out as someone who would know the scope of who and what we’re up against, and be able to keep safe from it.” Li raises her gaze to meet the Scholar’s skeptical one. “There is a woman who wields great power in the court, and she is the person responsible for the destruction at the Golden Temple, as well as my parents’ deaths. From all accounts, she is quite ruthless, fond of striking out at those who can’t defend themselves.”

“I see that my reputation precedes me, then.” The Scholar’s eyes land on Jin, and he bares his teeth in a sharklike grin. “I think I remember you as well, Traveler. We met in Lanzhou some years back. I think we both came to the defense of a widow forced into prostitution by her landlord. You beat the man’s hired thugs in a rout, and I… I slipped some crushed croton seeds into his wine. He was bedridden for three days after, which was enough time for the woman to make her escape back to her parents’ home. I appreciated the assistance with the thugs.” He turns to Li once again, pulling out an elegant fan and waving it in an indolent way. “I’m not going to pretend to be some idealistic hero type. There’s quite a bit of blood on my hands, and not all of them went easily and mercifully. I don’t have any interest in your vendetta against the lady mercenary of the Emperor’s. However… I will assist you. For the sake of your companion, since it could be said that he did me a good turn, once.” He glances at Jin again, and something significant but incomprehensible to Li passes between the two men. 

“I… don’t quite understand, but thank you,” Li murmurs, inclining her head. 

“You will once your training begins, Your Highness,” Zuo gives her an enigmatic smile. “And if not then, I will explain myself, once it’s completed. Now, I suppose I should play the role of gracious host, before my lady wife banishes me from her company and her bed.” Reaching over and taking Shui-Yin’s hand in his, he lays a lavish, unapologetic kiss on her knuckles even as she blushes. “Would you two care for some tea and a light repast? I can offer you some exceptional _Biluochun_ green tea, made from the tenderest shoots in the highest mountains. I promise, on my word as a gentleman, that it isn’t poisoned, either.” 

And so Li finds herself seated next to Jin in a delicately constructed pavilion in the middle of that deadly-beautiful garden, across from Zuo and his wife, being served a small but elaborate meal the likes of which she had never had in her life. Fried prawns, tender pork belly stewed in a savory sauce, and sizzling rice soaked in a rich tomato broth accompany dainty cups of fragrant green tea. In his element here, relaxed and refined, Zuo leads the conversation towards other, more innocuous topics-- his favourite poetry, and the proper placement of auspicious emblems in a household for good luck, and the joy of listening to beautiful music under peaceful moonlight. He invites both of them to stay as guests in his villa, and has his servants-- well-trained, efficient young men and women in matching pale-green uniforms-- take care of their mounts, and show them to their rooms on opposite sides of a courtyard blooming with narcissus and frangipani. Li’s room features glossy fixtures of rosewood and black lacquer inlaid with jade and mother-of-pearl, and a teal and gold cloisonne vase filled with stark white lilies of the valley rests on a desk bearing the traditional four treasures of a scholar’s room-- an ivory-handled calligraphy brush on a stand, an ink stick embossed with red-gold emblems, a ream of delicate white paper, and an ink stone carved of mossy grey agate. The luxury of her room does little to reassure Li; instinctively, she knows that what is to come here would be some of the most difficult training of her life.


	9. Chapter 8

A polite young chambermaid wakes Li up perhaps a half-hour before dawn, the sky outside still a dark cobalt blue. The girl is courteous and apologetic but quite forthright as she lights a candle and sets down a basin of warm water and a chunk of translucent soap flecked with golden flower petals and redolent of the fragrance of sweet osmanthus. “Master wishes for you to meet with him in the gallery. I will be back to escort you there in ten minutes. Do you need assistance with your ablutions or dress, my lady?” 

“No, thank you,” Li yawns even as she trudges over to the basin and splashes the sleep right out of her eyes. She’s just barely presentable when the girl comes back to fetch her, precisely at the ten minute mark, and it gratifies her just a little bit to see that Jin, coming from his own room across the courtyard, looks just as sleepy as a quiet page leads him down a walkway towards the same building, a ways off from the main hall. They reach the door at the same time, and as though in unspoken agreement, the servants knock twice, then crack the door open and back away so that Li and Jin could step inside by themselves. 

The room is quite dim in the low light of pre-dawn, and Li can’t see where Scholar Zuo is, or even get a clear idea of the dimensions of the space, before something whistles past her head, barely missing her cheek by mere centimeters, and Jin throws her down on the ground with a muttered curse, his own body shielding hers. She feels the wind get knocked out of her from the weight of him, and that jolts her awake enough to see precisely what it was that landed next to her head. It’s a six-pointed throwing star, smaller than the size of her palm but with lethally sharp edges, and when Zuo saunters into view from some shadowy corner of the room, looking well refreshed and alert, she gets the sinking feeling that he’d missed on purpose, to prove a point. Red-cheeked with mortification and now wide awake, she struggles into a sitting position even as Jin scrambles to his feet, fists clenched. 

“Are you mad? You could’ve taken her eye out! Or cut her throat with that thing!”

“I could have,” Zuo says reflectively, “Or worse. Often-times those who employ weapons such as these will coat the edges with something unpleasant-- spider or toad venom, for instance, or curare.” He holds up one hand, and visible clasped between his fingers are three more throwing stars. He glances at Jin before smiling in a gentle but cynical way at Li. “You have an honourable protector, Your Highness. But those whom you’d confront for your grievances are not men and women of honour. Are you quite certain that you wish to take them on? You have, thus far, evaded their search, and it would be a fairly simple matter to travel far away and just disappear, live a peaceful life without the stress of always looking over your shoulder. They won’t search for you forever, especially if you no longer pose a threat to them. And your fight isn’t his fight, now is it?”

“Her fight was also not the _Emei_ Sect’s fight either, but that didn’t save them,” Jin cuts in with a note of impatience in his voice. “Life’s a risk every day. I am not overly concerned with what risks this might entail, though obviously knowing and preparing for these risks is infinitely better than going in blind. Which is why we’re here.”

“Well said,” Zuo returns with a bland smile which sharpens as he fixes his gaze on Li’s face. “As a lady, it’s inefficient and, simply put, not very smart to bank on conquering your rival in a show of brute force. Your _Emei_ Sect is designed to favour women with its choice of sharp blades and darts, as well as ranged archery training. In combination with perhaps more questionable tactics such as _Qi_ attacks, or the employment of poisons, you could very well prove to be formidable against any foe, especially if you bear the element of surprise. But that is a thorny path to tread upon, and many a fearless fighter has been ruined in spirit for straying too far, going in too deep. Are you afraid?”

Something about his slightly patronizing manner irks Li, let alone the scare tactic he’d employed when she and Jin had first entered the room, and she scowls, raising her chin. “No.”

“You should be, unless you find a reason to conquer any demons this journey might unearth, something steadfast in your soul that bears the strength of the mountains and the seas. But very well. You didn’t come here to debate philosophy with me, I know. Let’s spar. I want to see what you’re capable of.”

Li draws her sword, then raises an eyebrow when Zuo sets down the trio of throwing stars on a nearby table, but makes no move to pick up any of the array of blades and pole-arms on the stand by the wall. Instead, he straightens, and stands placidly, holding nothing but a wooden-backed paper fan. “Aren’t you going to arm yourself?”

“Why would you assume that I’m not armed, just because I’m not holding anything obviously dangerous?” Zuo returns with a sardonic smirk. “Hit me as hard as you can, Princess. I’ll give you three hundred taels of silver for your journey if you can take me down.”

**

The bathwater is of the perfect temperature and the same chambermaid from that morning had added generous handfuls of dried lavender blooms and witch hazel leaves, and it feels wonderful against her bruised, aching limbs. Li languishes in the tub, almost too exhausted to move, and lets the herb-scented water gradually cool down around her body. Sparring with Zuo Zeng-Yan, who’d been armed with nothing but his fan and his fine-boned, lethal hands, had been a humbling experience indeed. She’d held back at first, as befit a friendly spar, but he’d attacked with the deadly quickness of a striking serpent, hitting vulnerable points along her leading arm with the fan to throw off her own attack before going on the offensive. And then she’d been angry at the sneaky, underhanded blows, and it had affected her focus. Certainly, in a few hours, the bruises would show up all over her body like the markings on a spotted horse. She’d not managed to take him down, not even close, though after an indeterminate amount of time trying, he’d called off the spar, and in a typical imperious fashion, rang for the maid to draw her a bath. The vicious young Lordling, Goddess damn him, didn’t even look winded by the exercise. 

There’s a soft knock on the door, then a quiet, harmonious voice addresses her from the other side. “It’s Shui-Yin. I’ve brought you some spikenard and calendula salve, to help you heal. May I come in?”

“I suppose,” Li grumbles, ducking further into the water for modesty’s sake as the door opens. 

Shui-Yin does not look much like the part of the Lady of the Manor, in her plain blue garments and her short-cropped hair, wearing no jewelry aside from a simple pair of sapphire earrings. She carries a small ceramic pot of some earthy-smelling substance in her hands, which she sets down on the table, and gives Li a soft, gentle smile. “I can help you with it, or I can summon the maid. Come on out of the tub and dry off, my lady.”

Li does so, somewhat embarrassed, but lies down on her stomach as directed as the other young woman skillfully anoints her bruises and scrapes with the salve, which warms upon contact with her skin and feels wonderful against the injuries. Shui-Yin makes a tsking sound as she spots a particularly large bruise on Li’s forearm. “I apologize on behalf of my husband.”

“He seems very devoted to you, though if you don’t mind my saying, you two are not very much alike.” Indeed, the sweet-faced, gentle-natured Shui-Yin, in her simplistic and unassuming demeanour, seemed an odd match for the somewhat haughty aristocrat with the fondness for classic poetry and luxurious creature comforts such as fine tea and silk robes. 

Shui-Yin’s laugh is clear and soft as the tinkling of a brook. “We’re nothing alike, I daresay. I was abandoned at a monastery as a baby by a highborn woman who’d borne me out of wedlock after an affair with an itinerant artist. Strictly speaking, they weren’t supposed to take me in, as I was a girl, but social mores were less important than the strictures of Buddha not to let harm come to innocent life. I was raised by the abbot, and taught the arts of healing. They let me stay until I had reached the age of girlhood where it was no longer feasible to disguise me as a boy amidst the other boys, and I left Putuo Mountain for a time to ply my trade as a healer and earn my keep. I met Zeng-Yan by chance on a mountain pass, gathering herbs, while he was meditating. He accidentally struck me with a _Qi_ attack because I’d startled him, and when I fainted, he realized what he’d done and frantically set about attempting to revive me. It was then that he realized I was a woman, but he kept my secret and promised not to give me away to the apothecary I’d assisted. He became a frequent visitor, that reckless man, as he would always be getting himself injured while training or fighting or doing experiments, and I suppose we became… friends, the way that you and Jin are.”

Li paused at that word. _Friends_. It was accurate, she supposed, but in a way it felt too simple-- both more and less than what Jin had become to her. “Scholar Zuo doesn’t look at you like a friend, though.” She might not be experienced in the ways of the world, but there is no mistaking the heat and devotion in Zuo’s voice and gaze whenever he addressed Shui-Yin.

“I would never have presumed that he’d marry a girl like me-- a nobody who had no lineage or money to her name, of course.” Shui-Yin murmurs, her voice soft as she reminisces. “And then one day, a warlord who had a vendetta against him rode into town. Zeng-Yan had fought against his son after the latter had kidnapped a pretty villager and attempted to force the girl to become his concubine, and at the conclusion of that battle, that young man was left paralyzed from the waist down. The warlord came to ransack the apothecary shop I worked at to kidnap my master and try to find a cure for his son’s affliction, but my master was out that day, and I got taken instead. But soon enough, the warlord discovered my secret as well. He vowed that him and his son would disgrace me and Zeng-Yan would have to live with the knowledge that his actions had caused my anguish.”

Li shudders. It’s a harrowing thought, and she steals a glance at the woman’s face. “I hope that never came to pass.”

“They were killed in their beds, through the locked rooms of their fortress, before that threat could come to pass. Zeng-Yan spirited me out of the dungeons and insisted I come to his villa to heal, though I’d not been harmed. I… have yet to leave.” Shui-Yin lets out another musical laugh as she dabs one final cut on Li’s shoulder with the salve. “That was three years ago. I didn’t fall in love with my husband at first sight, but he’s not nearly as bad of a man as his reputation would have one believe, and in these three years, I’ve learned to love him very much. I’m happy when he’s happy, and we trust each other with our deepest, darkest secrets, knowing the other person won’t think any less of us for it. I couldn’t imagine not being with him, even if he can be infuriating at times. But I’m sure you understand, my lady.”

Li frowns, and forgets her modesty enough to turn around and face the other woman fully. “What do you mean by that?”

Shui-Yin opens her mouth to say something, then seems to think the better of it, and turns around to pick up a clean tunic. “Nevermind. Here, put this on, and when you’re ready, you and your companion can join us for luncheon. I’ve had the kitchen add some ginseng to the soup course to facilitate your healing.”


	10. Chapter 9

The next two days pass in a blur of punishing spars and an extended tour of Scholar Zuo’s estate, which not only included a lush garden of poisonous plants in the front but a much different garden of medicinal herbs and flowers, lovingly tended, in the back by the family wing. Lush honeysuckle vines and stark white jasmine blossoms fill the air with their sweet fragrance and a small pond teeming with lotus blossoms and koi is backdropped by a grove of sturdy ginkgos and cassia trees, and handsome lily plants with white and pink blooms are visited by butterflies. Blue asters and silvery sage line the walking path. Though no one expressly says so, Li knows that it’s Shui-Yin’s garden, much like its deadly, showier counterpart is her husband’s. Thankfully, there are no cobras to be seen.

It’s a different story, however, when Zuo shows them a cellar which had clearly been converted into a laboratory of sorts. Cool and dimly lit and cavernous, it’s lined with cages and glass tanks housing an assortment of snakes, skittering spiders, yellow scorpions, giant centipedes and flabby-bodied toads. Li watches with a mixture of fascination and revulsion as he drops a still-living, squirming field mouse into the tank of what could well be the same cobra which had menaced them in the garden, and not even a minute later, the snake had dispatched it with a lightning-fast strike. 

“I was waylaid by some members of the Five Poisons Sect a few years back, and left for dead in an alley after a combination of physical blows and poisoned needles in several pressure points. My angel found me bleeding out on the street, and it is only through her quick thinking and an antidote that she’d applied that I survived. I’ve made it a point since that attack to study the fighting styles of these five poisons, as well as the actual substances they produce. An honourable fighter in the _Jiang-Hu_ would not, perhaps, make such a decision. But it isn’t smart to assume that just because you are too high-minded to resort to dirty tactics, your opponents and enemies bear the same moral rectitude as you. You’d be smart to verse yourself in poisons and their antidotes, and to build your inner _Qi_ against dishonourable attacks meant to incapacitate you with a touch.”

“I suppose,” Li says grudgingly. “Do I have to stick my hand in there like you just did?” She gestures at the cobra tank. 

Zuo laughs, and shakes his head. “Not until you’ve built up your inner _Qi_ , Your Highness. At least you have Jin to help you. The process tends to take longer when you’re doing it on your own. Now, though, how much do you trust him, and how comfortable are you with having him working alongside you in close proximity?”

“I… well, fairly comfortable, I suppose.” The question brings an uncustomary flush of heat to her cheeks that she doesn’t care to analyze, especially in front of the impertinent former assassin. “We’ve gotten accustomed to traveling together, so…”

Zuo’s uncanny green eyes seem to sharpen, and he laughs louder. “That’s not exactly what I meant. But the better you work together, the stronger and more prepared you will be to face those who would do you harm.”

**

The altar fire at the Golden Temple had been kept lit and hot by acolytes working shifts throughout the days and nights, but this is something else altogether. 

The fire is contained, barely, in a pit in the center of a training room that is open to the elements overhead, and the floor is marked with the _Ba-Gua_ trigrams. By Zuo’s direction, they are to meditate, seated back to back on one trigram, so as to better absorb the power and energy of the element it represents. 

The trigram for Fire is the southern-facing one, and deemed to be the most appropriate one for their meditation, and the day starts off uneventfully enough as they take a seat on the stone symbol of two unbroken lines with one broken line between. But as the sun rises higher in the sky and the fire blazes ever-hotter, emitting smoke that’s faintly scented with burning sage and cedar, the meditation becomes almost too physically uncomfortable to bear. Li’s tunic is sticky with sweat and clinging to her back, and she’s certain that Jin’s is the same. Still, she keeps her breathing even, her head straight as she soldiers on, intensely aware of the contours of Jin’s broad back against her own slim one. Her hair, tied back in a utilitarian queue, starts drooping with the heat and sticking to the nape of her neck. 

She keeps at it until sometime in the afternoon when the heat truly gets too much to bear, and then, feverish and hungry and lightheaded, she unbuttons her tunic and strips it off, and for a few moments, she feels the blessed coolness of a breeze which wafts through the open skylight ahead hit her bare arms. But that same breeze blows the flame closer towards her, and even wearing nothing but a bodice on top, it is blazingly hot. She can’t see Jin’s face, and doesn’t want to; certainly, it wouldn’t be right for him to see her less than fully clad, but it’s a few moments later that she feels his skin against hers, warm and slightly rougher than her own, as he, too, strips off his shirt, and the sensation of it sweeps over her somehow even more intensely than the heat of the blazing fire.

_Focus. Focus._ The Fire Trigram represents the Southern direction, and the coming of Spring warmth, and all the life and vitality of that element and the new beginnings it represents. Li takes slow, rhythmic breaths, unconsciously timing them to Jin’s. Contained, a fire would bring warmth and life. Uncontrolled, it would cause utter destruction. So, to master that element, she’d have to control it, and herself. She tips her head back as she inhales, and her hair brushes against Jin’s bare shoulders, and his breathing shudders, hers with it. 

The night falls overhead and the air cools down with it, but they don’t move from their positions, as the fire continues to burn, and they continue to breathe in tandem in front of it.

**

It goes on for a week-- hours of meditation, half-delirious with heat, sometimes face to face, sometimes back to back, sometimes with palms locked together like praying hands, eyes opening on occasion to see the blaze of the fire and the haze of smoke surrounding Jin’s familiar features. At the end of the night, when the doors to the training room would be opened by discreet servants bearing cups of hot ginseng and goji berry tea to replenish their strength and nourishing bowls of bone broth with pale slices of daikon and silky chunks of winter melon, to restore the balance of the humours after the long, scorching exposure to heat and the fire element. Then, dizzy with fatigue, they would endure an interminable hour of _Tai Chi_ with Zuo before, inevitably, Shui-Yin would appear, scolding her husband in her soft-spoken way for not letting his guests eat any dinner or get any rest after an arduous day of fasting and meditation. With her would come more servants, bearing a light repast of delicacies such as spring bamboo shoots cooked with savoury slivers of ham, or tender chicken sauteed with chestnuts. And like jagged stone smoothed down by flowing water, Zuo would kiss her hand and acquiesce in the gracious way of a gentleman acceding to the wishes of his beloved. By the time they’d dined, it would be close to midnight, and both would be led to their rooms on the compound where they’d barely have the energy to wash up before falling into the deep sleep of exhaustion. 

At the end of that week, of course, she has another spar with Zuo, in the same darkened gallery before the sunrise. 

“You show improvement, Your Highness. Fire is a good element for you to start on, for it is a natural state for you-- youthful, passionate, imperious. And with Jin’s bracing, tempering force grounding you, it is a flame bright but contained. However, there are seven more elements for you to master, some of which will undoubtedly be harder for you. I’m afraid you will have to impose upon my hospitality for a while longer.”

“I’m surprised that you don’t mind,” Li says honestly as she sheathes her sword. She’d still not managed to land a blow on him, but at least she’d not been utterly routed. “If I am to master all of those elements, it would be at least eight more weeks of training, and you’d be stuck with us as houseguests for that time.”

“Consider it a whim. I find myself somewhat sympathetic to your friend, and besides, my lady wife is a nurturing sort. Nothing would please her more than to have some guests to fuss over, as long as they’re not the boisterous, obnoxious sort.” His eyes seem to warm at the very mention of Shui-Yin. “Furthermore, though my beloved would certainly call it hubris of the grossest order, there’s something devilishly appealing about the idea of aiding the rightful heir of the Golden Throne in defeating the most ruthless and notorious of the Emperor’s warlords, even-- no, _especially_ \-- if it’s by doing nothing more than providing the use of my facilities and some rudimentary training.” He closes his fan, and tucks it away in the folds of his silk tunic. “Now, go get some rest. We start again tomorrow morning.”


	11. Chapter 10

The training continues, the weeks falling into a familiar pattern almost heartbreakingly reminiscent of the routine at the Golden Temple. Early morning summons, long, arduous days, but evenings spent in surprisingly good company. Zuo and Jin sometimes wile away the evening hours in the garden in tuneful duet-- the former on his zither and the latter on his flute, while Shui-Yin and Li listen as they sip chrysanthemum tea and nibble on sweet lychees and creamy papaya. Other times, Li and Jin will watch as Zuo and Shui-Yin face off each other over the Go board, and though Li only knows the game at a rudimentary level, it is immediately apparent that both husband and wife are expertly skilled. Sometimes Zuo would win, and sometimes Shui-Yin, but they’re remarkably good-natured about it, neither gloating over victories nor sulking over losses. 

They’d all retire for bed close to midnight, and now the paths which lead to their respective quarters are familiar enough that they don’t need the servants to guide them. Jin would walk with her through the courtyard, before they’d part ways in the opposite directions towards their rooms. Sometimes, he’d pause, as though wanting to say something, before he’d think better of it. And those occasional moments are enough to keep her awake and wondering, even as her exhausted body gratefully sinks into bed. And then the next day would bring more fire meditation, his body flush against hers, heartbeats and breathing synced together for hours at a time, her body vividly and uncomfortably aware of his proximity. 

It’s perhaps a month and a half later that she finally manages to land a blow on Zuo during one of their spars, and when he counterattacks with a wave of _Qi_ directed at her in a manner designed to incapacitate her, she throws up a hand, feeling the energy behind it, to shield herself. The opposing energies collide in the center of the room, then dissipates with enough force to knock several of the pole-arms on the rack by the wall over with a clang. She almost falls over from the exertion, legs suddenly shaking underneath her, but manages to stay upright and leads on with her sword, now managing to get close enough to puncture the paper of the fan Zuo uses to shield his face. With a jerk of his hand, he snaps it close, taking her sword with him and flinging it across the room, but she reaches into her tunic for her darts and presses on recklessly. He lands a hard smack on her wrist, but not before she manages to graze one aristocratic cheekbone with the sharp edge.

“Halt!” For someone who’d just had a sharp object almost take out his eye, Scholar Zuo looks quite pleased, and doubly so, when he opens his fan and inspects it. There’s a watercolour painting of a red poppy with a stark black corolla on the white paper, and there’s a hole right in the center of it, marring the artwork. “Just think, Your Highness, had you poisoned your darts, I’d be dying a terrible death right now. Well done!”

“That… sounds so horrid, and certainly not something to get excited over,” Li shudders, thinking about her tour to the creepy cellar full of snakes and spiders. She can feel the blow that he’d landed on her arm reverberating all the way up to her shoulder, and avoids the instinct to shake it out, knowing that the damage to her meridians would worsen with that sort of uncontrolled motion. Zuo walks up to her and touches two fingertips to several pressure points in quick, efficient movements, and the painful tingling dulls to a faint throb. His touch doesn’t affect her heart rate the way Jin’s does, but she doesn’t care to think about it too hard. He’s still smiling faintly as he steps back. 

“Well, it means that you’ll have a chance of escaping out of this mess alive when you go to confront your enemies, Your Highness. Of course, you’d have a better chance if you’d let go of some of that inherent nobility and idealism, but one can’t expect miracles.” He folds his fan back up, mindful of the rip in the paper, and tucks it into his tunic. “Now, although I know it’d be nigh impossible to convince you to poison your weapons, I’ll have Shui-Yin formulate and pack you a parcel of antidotes with the directions for their usage when you two go on your way. Kong Lian will not take the high road, you can rest assured of that.” He rings for the ever-present servants, and gives a few terse directives that Li knew would be fulfilled immediately before turning back to her with a grin. “I will also make arrangements for that three hundred taels of silver, as promised. You didn’t take me down, but you came quite close.”

“I’m well aware that our stay here has cost you quite a great deal more than three hundred taels of silver,” Li frowns. Certainly, no expenses had been spared-- their rooms, meals, and all other associated creature comforts had been of top quality during the last two months. “You truly don’t need to give us any more than what you already have, especially in the interests of a cause you don’t truly wish to espouse.” A thought occurs to her then, and she turns to Zuo, looking up into his face. “You said that you’d explain why you were willing to do this, when you wanted no part of any political intrigues. Wouldn’t now be the right time?”

Zuo looks at her, those uncanny green eyes of his piercing and unblinking as they stare into her violet ones, but doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. Just when she’s about to give up and take her leave for the hot bath undoubtedly waiting for her in her quarters, his lips curve into a wry smile. “I find myself sympathetic to your Jin, I suppose. We’re similar in some ways, I think.”

“How so?” Li asks dubiously. Jin did not come from generations of wealth and privilege, and unlike her aristocratic host, was a great deal more friendly, a great deal less calculating. He wasn’t a snob about what type of tea he drank or whether he’d have simple rice porridge or rich roast duck for his dinner. And certainly, Jin had not been involved in nearly as many controversies as the idiosyncratic scholar. “Your backgrounds are nothing alike, nor your preferences.”

“No, but I understand the restlessness he’d felt, the confusion on his journey towards finding who he is, what his place would be in the world. It’s not a friendly world when you don’t have a purpose, or you rebel against the purpose designed for you,” Zuo says with a cynical curve to his lips. “It’s also not easy to find your purpose, and understand what sacrifices you must make for it, but if my experience is anything to go by, it’s also the best thing which has ever happened to him. A man makes a vow but once in his life-- swearing by the mountains and the seas-- to honour the most important thing in his world, and if he keeps to his word, those same mountains and seas will give him the strength to live the rest of his life as the gods intended. I wish you two all the best, and in your case, I hope that you will survive any encounters you might have with your enemies.” His smile changes then, now all roguish charm, and he bows his head. “You, too, have a purpose, Your Highness. And it _must_ be something more cheerful and survivable than a hard and possibly futile war against a tyrant. It would be too much of a pity and a waste of a beautiful woman, I’m sure. The gods would never allow it.”

**

They take their leave of Zuo and Shui-Yin in the morning, and find that they’ve been amply supplied for the next leg of their journey. Though Scholar Zuo’s villa is still quite a few provinces away from the Capital, it is in the right direction, and soon they are upon the open road. Somehow, though, they’ve lost the comfort of the last few months. Jin is quiet and preoccupied and speaks little. They stop and rest in the afternoon to water the horses and get some respite from the hot sun overhead, taking a break in a wooded area by a creek. Shui-Yin had clearly overseen the packing of their supplies-- in place of dainty, impractical delicacies, they have sturdy _shao-bing_ studded with sesame seeds and stuffed with savoury meat and spring onions for their victuals, along with salty pickled cucumbers and radishes, practical and filling and easy to eat while traveling. Jin brushes down both their horses, but avoids all but the most stilted and desultory of conversation with her. 

In the evening, as a matter of discipline, they work on the stances and meditation to strengthen their inner _Qi_ as taught by Zuo, as well as the staff forms taught by Nai. They still work in tandem, though Jin remains quiet and somewhat preoccupied, and seems to take extra care not to touch her or come too close. It riles her up enough to be rather more aggressive than she normally would, but though he spars with skill and speed, he doesn’t rise to the bait, and focuses primarily on defending himself rather than attacking her. 

“Why are you acting so strange?” she demands, arms crossed as her breath heaves out of her lungs, quarterstaff negligently leaned against a nearby tree. “You’ve been out of sorts for the last week.”

“Perhaps I’m glad to be out of there,” Jin replies flippantly. “Though the amenities were nice enough, to be sure, we can’t let that hide the fact that our host was a bit of a psychopath. No one sane raises snakes and spiders for the express purpose of using them to kill people.”

“You’re quite ungrateful for the fact that he housed us, at great personal expense, for months! And took quite a lot of time and effort to train us for the battle ahead. He even said, during our last conversation, that he had a lot of sympathy and respect for you.” 

“I assure you, whatever Zuo might have spent on feeding and housing us is but a drop in the great sea of wealth that his family commands. How he managed to find such a sweet and lovely spirit as Shui-Yin for his wife is beyond me.”

For some reason, Jin’s casual admiration of Shui-Yin, who most certainly deserves it, irritates Li. “I am sure that she is as devoted to him as he is to her. They certainly seem quite happy together.”

“To each their own, I suppose. There’s certainly no accounting for tastes.”

“Now you’re just being hypocritical,” Li glares at him. “Does it not occur to you that much like you live your life by your rules, so do they? I don’t think it would be right to judge.”

“Well, perhaps you’d best get accustomed to judging, and hypocrisy,” Jin bursts out, a bit of real ire seeping into his voice through the sarcasm. “You’re the one heading towards the Capital for court intrigues and assassinations and the aristocratic life. I think that would be one of the main features of it, wouldn’t you say?”

“And you were the one who decided to come along, so if that’s such a big problem, there is the whole vast expanse of the Golden Kingdom for you to call home. Go ahead! I’m not stopping you!” Knowing full well that she’s overreacting but unable to stop herself, she points dramatically at the road. “Go, then!”

He scowls, but at least he doesn’t storm off in a temper, and she takes a deep breath. Both of them had been out of line, and perhaps this was bound to happen sooner or later after months of working in far-too-close proximity. His head is bent down, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of his neck, and a shiver creeps down her spine despite the afternoon heat. But he breaks the tense silence before she can do so herself. 

“I apologize for my unkind words, my lady.” An awkward smile, unlike his usual easy grin, crosses his lips. “I must say, the closer we are to the Capital, the more worried I become. It is not your fault.”

“You know that you could leave at any time, right?” Li says with more bravado than she truly feels. Somehow, in these past few months, Jin had become a pivotal part of her life, and the thought of continuing on this road alone, without his banter and his support and his roguish smiles, echoes with a dull thud like heartache. Almost of their own volition, she holds out her hands, and reaches for his, and after a moment, their fingers link together. “I can’t ask you to sacrifice your freedom or your life for me, Jin. I would never do that.”

“No one is ever completely free, and… well, I’ve come this far already, haven’t I?” Jin gives her hands a squeeze before letting them go, and in that brief contact, she can feel the calluses on their palms and fingers brushing against each other. Another shiver makes its way down her spine. “It’s only perhaps another month or so of travel. And perhaps… perhaps someday, years from now, when I walk into another pub, I can entertain travelers with a story of how I’d once gotten into a tavern brawl with a princess.”

“You and your fondness for taverns and brawls,” Li rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but his light remark clears the air, as it was meant to. “I still don’t understand how you can stomach the taste of liquor. It smells like rotten rice.”

“There is no accounting for tastes, to be sure,” Jin says with an exaggeratedly solemn face. “Especially when one has not come in contact with many of the finer things in life. Indeed, I do believe my first experience with something first-rate, indeed, rare and irreplaceable, is when I met you.”

Li doesn’t know if he means it in the way that she thinks he does-- hopes he does. But she doesn’t ask, and instead, falls back on their normal camaraderie, and the routine of sparring.


	12. Chapter 11

They travel northward, and the landscape changes as the season transitions into the golden days of late summer. It is in a province that borders the Capital where they come across a large crowd apparently gawking at some sort of spectacle in a town square, where a large crowd has gathered in front of what looks to be a lavishly decorated balcony. The crowd, Li notices, is made up primarily of raucous young men all seeming to jostle for position to get as close as possible to the balcony itself. 

“What is going on, do you think?” Li asks Jin. The balcony is lavishly adorned with red banners and flower arrangements, and a pair of red lanterns hang on either side of the door which presumably leads to the room of the occupant of that manor house. 

“I’m not sure, but it will be quite easy to find out.” Jin returns, and with a friendly smile, he poses a question to the nearest interested bystander, who responds with great enthusiasm. A few moments later, he turns back to Li with a wry smile. 

“The house belongs to a member of the local gentry, with a famously beautiful daughter of marriageable age, and since she is having trouble deciding between her scores of lovelorn suitors, they’re returning to an old tradition to choose a husband.” As though on cue, the door to the balcony opens, and a young lady in red brocade and an elaborately styled coiffure steps onto the balcony, carrying a silk embroidery ball festooned with golden tassels and adorned with fancy needlework. “She will throw the ball out into the crowd, and whoever catches it will marry her.”

The young lady peers into the crowd, then turns and throws the embroidery ball over her shoulder, and the suitors go wild. The ball is buffeted by dozens of pairs of hands before it lands in the possession of a haughty-looking young man in a purple silk tunic, who holds it aloft triumphantly. “I, Lord Yuan, win the hand of Miss Liang. Bring me to her father immediately so that we can discuss matters of dowry.”

Cheers arise from the crowd, even though undoubtedly many of them must be disappointed for not catching the ball, and a few of the other young men lift Lord Yuan aloft on their shoulders even as the people clear a path to the manor house’s main doors. Li eyes the group dubiously and shakes her head.

“That seems like an awful way to decide who to marry. The girl had no choice in the matter at all.”

“Well, she had a little. Perhaps she really likes him, and threw it in his direction in hopes that he would catch it. Usually, as I understand it, nobility marry for financial or political reasons. There are marriages that occur where the bride won’t even meet her husband until the day of the wedding, to say nothing of the lower-ranked concubines in the harem.” Jin gives her a weird, unhappy smile. “I’m sure the closer we get to the Capital, the more we’ll see of that sort of thing. Once you ascend to your birthright, you might well choose to make a political alliance by marriage yourself, my lady.”

“I would never do such a thing,” Li shakes her head vehemently. “You’re very certain that I will succeed in thwarting my uncle and his henchwoman, when really, there is no guarantee of anything.”

“You will succeed at anything you put your mind and heart to, my lady,” Jin says quietly, and the blue of his eyes sear into hers for a long moment before he turns away. “Such courage as yours would never be thwarted by the Gods. And as for a political marriage… you may not have a choice, if you enter the court. They say even your uncle would marry that bloodthirsty woman lieutenant of his if it would be in any way acceptable, and he’s currently sitting on the throne.”

“I will never marry someone not of my choosing,” Li says definitively, as they edge away from the sounds of celebration starting up at the manor house. “If I am presented with suitors, I will turn them all down before attaching myself to a man who cares nothing for me.”

“Would you really?” Jin murmurs, but before Li can respond, he shakes his head, as though to clear it of unpleasant thoughts, and turns back to her with a smile that looks a trifle forced. “We should probably keep on moving, find a place to rest for the night.”


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art featured in this chapter is the work of the amazing SCGdoeswhat. I am so lucky this year to have worked with so many different artists for the bang, and everyone is so darn talented. Please leave her lots of love and also check out her own fic for this year's Bang!

The Capital City is huge, with throngs of people and horses and carriages going in all directions on its well-paved streets. They blend in well enough as they enter with a crowd of farmers hawking the day’s wares of fresh bok choy and squawking chickens and candied hawthorn berries on skewers. The milieu of the city ranges from aristocratic nobles in elaborate silk brocade costumes on the backs of elegant horses or being borne aloft in fancy palanquins to emaciated, grimy-faced beggars cowering away in alleyways wearing dirty rags. 

They follow the flow of traffic into the bustling commercial portion of the city, still a-ways away from the towering walls enclosing the royal palace compound, and make their way towards the hanging overhead sign of a local tavern. Though Li still has no particular fondness for wine and other spirits, she has to concede that such places are useful for gathering information about the locale, and here, more than anywhere else, the intel would be vital. 

They have just finished handing off the reins of their horses to a stable boy when a scream pierces the air from the other side of the street. A grubby child holding the chipped stoneware bowl of a beggar cowers and tries to flee the onslaught of hooves as a haughty-looking aristocrat on a galloping horse thunders through an alley not wide enough for anything more than foot traffic. Li’s somersaulting through the air before she can think better of it, reconsider drawing attention to herself, and grabs the child up by an arm, yanks him out of the path of danger. The horse neighs in alarm and rears, almost unseating its rider. The man shouts something angrily that Li can’t clearly hear, but the whistle of a whip cutting through air is clear enough, and on instinct alone, she raises her sword to parry before it can cut into either her or the beggar child. 

The aristocrat’s shout, however, seems to have alerted his servants, following on foot behind his horse, and they pour into the narrow alleyway, also drawing their weapons, and in short order, Li is surrounded on all sides. The beggar child, thankfully, manages to duck out of sight, but Li finds a score of knife-points aimed straight at her face. Cursing under her breath, she leaps into the air, alights on top of the wooden beam of a street sign, and then dives into the fray. Seconds later, she feels a warm, solid back against hers, and she knows without even looking that Jin has joined her. 

  
[ ](http://drive.google.com/uc?export=view&id=1HlYXKsW9706-dp-DmVYFDtM6VdeQ5h56)

  


They quickly dispel the rider’s entourage, who, though trained in basic hand-to-hand and bladed weapon combat, are not even close to a match, and Li hopes that with his servants lying in a groaning heap on the ground, the rider would also beat a hasty retreat, but unfortunately, the brawl draws the attention of a platoon of roaming deputies, who rush into the alley in their dragon-emblazoned uniforms, sabers drawn. 

“Halt!” The apparent captain of the guard calls out. “Everyone lower your weapons! What have we, here?”

“The man on horseback almost trampled a child, and then when I intervened, attacked me with his whip.” Li’s face is flushed with exertion and anger, and she raises her chin unrepentantly. “I was simply defending myself from him and his servants. If that is all, my companion and I should be allowed to go our way.”

The captain’s face is impassive but not particularly angry as he listens to her explanation, but after a beat, his response is the last thing that Li would have imagined. 

“I don’t really care about the altercation,” the officer says matter-of-factly, and with a wave of his hand, his men hustle the indignant rider and the others out of the alleyway. “You carry an _Emei_ sword, traveler, and those are forbidden within city limits.” His tone is not completely unsympathetic, but his expression is implacable. “You must pay a fine of a thousand taels of silver, and leave within the hour. This is the latest directive from the Emperor himself.”

“A thousand taels of silver-- for carrying a _sword_?” Jin protests at Li’s side, his mouth agape. “There are dozens of people carrying weapons of all kinds, including swords, within city limits!”

“The directive is specific to any armaments specific to the _Emei_ Sect, which has been deemed an unlawful organization,” the captain states, then gives them a thin, weary smile. “I am aware that you two, as travelers, might not have been aware of this edict. However, it is my job to enforce the law. Should you choose to defy it, my men and I will have no choice to arrest you both. I would rather not go through the trouble. My men and I have watched your fight for a few minutes. I don’t doubt that you would give us a good run, and there would be injuries on both sides, perhaps serious ones.”

They face off, and for a moment, Li feels Jin’s free hand squeeze hers even as his other keeps a sure grip on his quarterstaff. He would defend her, even at risk to his own life, and… and she would do the same. But before either group could make a move, she sheathes her sword, and raises her chin. “There must be some Magistrate or Prefect or civil official whom I could speak to, about this unjust directive. I shouldn’t have to be penalized and run out of town for doing nothing but defend a helpless child against a reckless dandy with no concern for human life.”

The captain gives them the lightest of shrugs, but as she sheathes the sword, puts his own saber back in its scabbard as well. “You may certainly follow that road to the court, traveler, but be prepared to pay the thousand taels of silver and be sent on your way.”

**

In a show of equanimity, the deputies let Li and Jin get an evening’s victuals and rest at the local tavern before attending court at the _Ya-men_ in the morning, though both of them are well aware that the whole troop had chosen to station themselves around the public house overnight to prevent any potential escape from justice. The meal they order is a simple one, with smoked bean curd sauteed with tender celery, steamed cornbread buns shaped like beehives, and chives cooked with scrambled eggs. Though he orders it perhaps out of habit, Jin barely touches his wine, all too aware of the trio of deputies seated several tables over watching them with beady eyes. 

“I suppose this is one way to gain an audience with the governing officials,” Jin murmurs in a half-hearted attempt at humour. “I’m sure that the Prefect knows someone who knows someone else and so on and so forth until the line reaches either the Emperor or that woman mercenary of his. Undoubtedly they created this edict to stamp out any hints of insurrection from any remaining disciples and allies to the Sect.”

“You know, you aren’t carrying any of the unlawful weapons,” Li says quietly, idly nibbling on a slightly-too-dry cornbread bun and staring at the rapidly-cooling surface of her tea rather than the piercing blue eyes across the table. “I doubt the Prefect is going to want much more than the forfeiture of the silver. You should take enough of the money and provisions to travel on, go forth with your life.” A twisted smile that feels awful and forced makes its way across her mouth. “You’d offered to be a traveling companion until I made it to the Capital. And here we are. I will be fine. You should go while you can.”

“Do you really think I’d leave you now, Li?” Jin keeps his voice quiet, pitched low so that it can’t be overheard amidst the din of the customers, but the vehemence in his tone has her jerking her head up, and his eyes are the blazing blue of the hottest coal-fire. A horrible smile that most likely matches hers crosses his lips at that moment. “We may be parted after this, by force or fate, if one of us doesn’t survive. Or if you attain what’s yours by birthright, and a penniless traveling warrior has no right to share any part of your future life. But I swear it to you, by all the mountains and seas, that I won’t leave you unless that happens, and that anyone who would do you harm would have to go through me, first.”

Li feels her breath catch, and something both sweet and bitter rises up in her chest--like honey and goldthread, and it has nothing to do with politics or unjust edicts or even the leagues of dusty road that they’ve traveled together. To swear by the mountains and seas is not an oath made to a friend, or even a monarch, but to a beloved, and nothing could have been more foolishly stated and left to the whims of fate. And yet, starkly and recklessly, his declaration hangs in the air between them, thick and burning like incense smoke that brings tears to her eyes. “You fool! I don’t want you to protect me,” she tries to say with a scoff, but it comes out suspiciously like a sob. “I want you to live, and be safe, away from a battle that isn’t yours.”

“You must be a fool, too, if you think that,” Jin shakes his head with a wry chuckle, before his hands reach her restless ones across the table, and hold on. “It’s mine, because you’re mine, Li. In heart and spirit, even if not in life. Nothing that the future may bring will change that. Now, we should finish our dinner, and rest before tomorrow. Go up. I’ll stay down here some more, settle the bill, and see if there’s any information that might be important.” He drops her hands, only to shift a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear, and it’s a far more intimate touch, fleeting though it may be, than hours and hours of training in close proximity. “I’ll see you in the morning, Li. Sleep well.”


	14. Chapter 13

The local Prefect is an avuncular old man with a grizzled, careworn face and a beard almost the exact same shape and colour of a fat ink-brush, white with a faded black tip. He introduces himself as Magistrate Guo, responsible for all civil and judicial matters in the county, and patiently listens to the testimony given by the captain of the guard. He does not order Li or Jin to be brought to him bound or restrained, and at the accounting of Li’s rescue of the beggar child, sighs and shakes his head, then clears his throat. 

“Captain Fu, your men have ascertained the identity of the rider gallivanting through the street?”

“Yes, Your Honor. It is Lord Du’s son, Kai. His father is, as you know, a minor-ranked nobleman.”

“His father can be a major-ranked nobleman and it still wouldn’t excuse the atrocious behavior of his son. I have heard complaints and grievances against young Kai before. He is to be fined two hundred taels of silver for this latest infraction, twenty of which shall be awarded to the child whom he almost killed in his carelessness, Furthermore, let him be informed that the next time his name gets brought up in my court as a defendant, he will be brought in for forty strikes with a bamboo switch.” The Magistrate supervises as his secretary copies down his decree, and then stamps it with his seal before handing it off to one of the deputies. “See that this is delivered to Lord Du’s villa at once.” Even as the officer leaves, he turns his attention back to Li, a kindly smile on his face. 

“You have not been seen in our county before, Miss. And your accent is not local. I am sure you were simply not aware of the latest Imperial edict concerning the _Emei_ Sect. As you have not done any harm to the citizens under my protection, and have in fact nobly saved the life of a defenseless child, I shall waive half of the fine. I can’t waive it altogether,” he adds, almost apologetically. “Your possession of the weaponry of the _Emei_ Sect was noticed by too many witnesses, and the palace will expect to see their cut of the silver. You and your companion will be free to go once that is paid, and Captain Fu himself will escort you out of the city in safety.”

Li feels a wave of regret, because everything about this dignified old bureaucrat pointed to him as well-meaning and just, free of the sort of power-hungry ruthlessness or corruption one might have expected out of a government official under the current regime. But though his offer is more than generous-- indeed, it undoubtedly would endanger his own position if any in the Emperor’s court had heard of his decision to waive half the fine-- she had not come so far to be escorted out of the city. 

“I thank you for your generous offer, Your Honor, but I-- we have business in the city. We cannot leave so soon after we’ve arrived. I will pay the full fine if I must.” She raises her eyes fearlessly to meet the Prefect’s, and his beetling brows draw into a thoughtful frown as he takes a closer look into her face. All of the sudden, all the colour drains from his own, and it is with a shaky gesture that he summons her closer to the dais where he is seated. 

“Y-you… that face, those eyes! Are you…?” His words are barely audible, and then he smooths down his ceremonial robes with quaking fingers. “You must leave right away, Your Highness, before anyone else knows that you’re here. I knew your parents, watched your father’s coronation ceremony two years before you were born. The only reason that I haven’t met the fate of all of the others in the old court is because my own wife served as wet-nurse to both your father and the current Emperor. But if His Majesty found out that you were here, in my own _Ya-men_ …”

Before he can even finish his sentence, there’s a whistling sound, and the blur of something sailing through the air towards him. Li springs up and reflexively snatches up the nearest object on the dais-- the lion-shaped agate seal, and flings it towards the projectile. The lion’s curly head flies off, but the stiletto that had been aimed with deadly intent either at the Prefect or herself is also flung off-path before it can embed itself into someone’s chest. And there, at the entrance of the hall, is a tall, vicious-looking woman in a suit of armour, with a mane of auburn hair. Even as the Magistrate’s guards rush forward to defend him, a platoon of Imperial soldiers hold them at bay with spears and halberds. 

“Well, well… what have we, here?” Kong Lian’s smile is cold and cruel as a winter wind. “I was just visiting a friend, Lord Du, when he received a summons from your court, Prefect. Imagine my surprise and dismay when I found out that there was a case in progress at that very minute about an _Emei_ Sect practitioner allowed to roam free within our own municipality! Of course, I had to see it for myself.” She sketches the briefest glance at Jin and Li, who are now standing side by side, a defensive wall in front of the cowering old man. “And they seem to be alive and well. More than I can say for you, in very short order. Drag him forward, then cut him down,” she orders her troops. “Shuo-Xing will be miffed, of course, but after a bit of sulking, he will understand that it’s for the best.”

One of the soldiers makes a move towards the Magistrate’s chair, but Jin snatches one of the bamboo switches, used for doling out corporal punishment, and clocks him over the head, his other arm reaching out immediately and drawing the man’s sword straight out of its sheath. It’s in Li’s hand the very next moment, and though the blade is slightly heavier and wider than her own, Li grasps it and steps forward, raising her voice to draw Kong Lian’s attention.

“The one you’re looking for, that you have been looking for all this time, is me. And since you chose to murder my sisters and brothers in cold blood, I’ve been looking for you, too. They will be blessed and protected in the next life by the goddess, but the demons of hell will gnaw on your bones, Kong Lian. You’ve stained your hands with the blood of hundreds in search for Princess Ru-Yuan throughout the last fifteen years. Well, I’m here, and it will be your blood staining these floors tonight.”

She keeps one hand wrapped around Jin’s even as Kong Lian’s face contorts into a snarl, and meets the onslaught of soldiers head-on as they storm toward them, spears raised. Dimly, they are aware of Captain Fu half-helping, half-pulling the elderly Prefect to safety, and then what had once been a dignified bureaucratic hall erupts in battle.

**

The soldiers are easy work, and for that, she perhaps has to thank the precepts and lessons of Scholar Zuo. One concentrated inner energy attack from her and Jin’s combined efforts sends a whole squad tumbling down in a cacophony of groans and dropped halberds. Kong Lian’s mouth drops open unattractively in shock for a moment before it twists back into a sneer, and she flings another blade through the air. Li ducks out of the way, then watches with a little horror as it strikes one of the Magistrate’s servants, who almost immediately collapses to the ground, body convulsing and foam bubbling up at his lips.

“This is how your friends died, how your father perished, little Princess,” Kong Lian taunts her with a fiendish laugh. “Rolling on the floor like a maggot. And so, too, will you.” 

Li knows the taunt for what it is-- a distraction tactic, and though tears sting her eyes, she doesn’t let them fall or cloud her vision. At her side, Jin handily dispatches another group of soldiers, utilising the bamboo switch that he’d snatched up as a quarterstaff. They fight their way out of the hall and into the courtyard, and all of the sudden, even as Li and Jin take up a defensive position back-to-back, surrounded by a circle of sharp spear-points. Kong Lian, with an attitude of mocking nonchalance, falls back behind the wall of her army. 

“You will never even land a blow on me, little Princess,” the female mercenary jeers. “You will perish of exhaustion before I run out of men. Your pathetic sect had dozens of novices willing to take up arms, and yet here you think to challenge me with one.”

But even as the words leave her mouth, a bedraggled gang of men and women in fluttering rags and wielding staves of varying sizes come charging through the main entrance of the _Ya-men_ , and it takes but an instant for both Li and Jin to recognize the newcomers, who immediately engage the soldiers in combat. They’re members of the Beggars’ Sect, undoubtedly the local branch, perhaps summoned by intel within the network from Master Nai, or perhaps in a show of support after the rescue of the beggar child from Lord Du’s son. They quickly clear a path free for Li and Jin, and they rush out after Kong Lian.

They find, mysteriously tied up against the trunk of a tree, Li’s horse, carrying her parcels, bow and quiver, as well as the _Emei_ Sect sword that had caused the whole debacle. It had undoubtedly been left there by one of the members of the Beggars’ Sect that had come to their rescue, and she gratefully untethers the animal and urges it into a gallop even as she nocks her bow. Kong Lian is also running, trampling through the streets with no care or concern about any pedestrians in her path. Her armour would protect her from any fatal injuries, but the arrow flies straight and true, hitting her right in the steering arm and knocking her off her horse with a shout of rage. 

Li, too, dismounts, and tosses the reins to Jin so that he can move the animal to safety. Kong Lian also draws her blade, a wide-bladed sword with a sickle-shaped protrusion on one side, and the steel glitters in the sunlight. Li has no doubt that this weapon, too, is laced with poison, but she presses on with her attack, parrying blows and looking for an opening amidst a flurry of strikes. Kong Lian fights with ruthlessness more than style, and certainly without any hints of the orthodox schools of training in her rough movements. However, she’s still formidable, and she is close to a head taller than Li, powerfully built and armour-clad. Li realizes in very short order that there is no chance that she’d best Kong-Lian in a show of brute force. Even with an injured arm, the mercenary powers forward. Li manages to slash one sharp cheekbone with the point of one of her darts before it is wrenched out of her grasp. 

“You little bitch, I’ll ruin your face before I kill you slowly. Your dashing lover won’t want you any more by the time I’m done with you. He won’t even recognize you. I’ll carve my name into those pretty cheeks, rip out all of that lovely hair. Cut out those beautiful eyes.” Kong Lian punctuates each of her threats with a thrust of her blade, but after countless sparring sessions with Scholar Zuo, Li is prepared for the onslaught. She doesn’t respond back, since to talk would be to waste breath, and she’d need all her strength for this fight for her life.

Another thrown blade whistles by her face, close enough to shear off a strand of her hair, but thankfully missing any skin. Li strikes out with her free hand, index and middle fingers pointed straight out, and hits a series of pressure points on Kong Lian’s arm, causing her to drop her knife. The bare-handed technique is one she’d learnt from Master Nai. Kong Lian lets out a curse, and throws a handful of something pungent in her face that smells foul and stings her eyes, and in that moment, she staggers, blind and disoriented, dimly aware that her enemy takes merciless advantage of those precious few seconds. She hears the whistle of another thrown blade, but has only the barest idea of where it might have come from, and swings out wildly with her sword. She feels, rather than sees, the collision of metal against metal, the shock of it reverberating up her own arm, and bats the poisoned projectile away by instinct. And then there’s a scream, and the sickening sound of knife hitting flesh even as she tries to blink the noxious powder that the mercenary had thrown out of her eyes. 

Kong Lian staggers to her knees, her own throwing knife, which had ricocheted off Li’s sword, embedded in the gap in her armour by her collarbone. It’s not a fatal spot for a wound, especially when the knife, now upon inspection, is perhaps only the length of her thumb. But the poison that Kong Lian is so fond of takes effect almost immediately, and now it is she who collapses onto the ground, body contorting in agony as she chokes on her own saliva. 

Perhaps had the substance that Kong Lian had thrown in her face not been so potent, or perhaps had the poison in that throwing knife been so fast-acting, or perhaps had she not been so exhausted, adrenaline draining out after the intense battle, Li would have thought to utilize some of the antidotes in her satchel to stop Kong Lian from dying before she could answer any questions. But the red-haired woman wheezes her last breath within minutes, and Li can do nothing but stagger to her feet in search of her horse, or perhaps some water to wash out that powder out of her eyes and nose and mouth so that she can regain full control of her faculties.

She doesn’t make it very far, though, before she collapses.


	15. Chapter 14

She wakes up aching all over, lying down in a pile of dirty straw in what is unmistakably a jail cell. They’d stripped off her clothing and re-dressed her in the rough-spun garments of a prisoner, and taken all of her weapons, leaving not so much as a hairpin. The lighting is low and the air is dank with the scent of mildew and urine. They left her no food, but there is a bucket of water, and she splashes it over her face, hissing in pain as it washes off the final remnants of whatever substance Kong Lian had thrown at her. Finally, her vision clears enough to take in her surroundings to the fullest, though she is still not sure exactly where she is.

A guard on patrol comes down the narrow corridor, and the yellow Imperial tunic he wears clues her in as to her probable location. It’s a dungeon within the Imperial palace itself, which meant that she was now a prisoner of the Emperor, the very same blood relation who’d wanted her dead to begin with. That certainly boded ill for any chance of escape or rescue; the palace was undoubtedly heavily guarded, and certainly her uncle would want retribution for the death of his most loyal henchwoman. 

“You’re awake,” the guard intones, his demeanour indifferent. He tosses a wrapped bundle through the bars, but makes no effort to converse with her. “Your dinner.” There is not a hint of recognition in his eyes.

There is a shackle clamped around her ankle, which is secured to the wall. She cannot come closer than about three quarters of the way to the bars, and has to stretch to reach the bundle of food. She unwraps it, and then grimaces at the smell. The rice is at least a few days old and the spinach leaves are wilted and spotty. She manages to choke down perhaps only a quarter of it, then rinses the rancid taste out of her mouth with the water in the bucket. She tries to pack up the remainder of the food neatly, but there is nowhere to dispose of it, and the guard doesn’t reappear. 

Through one narrow window, she sees the light outside go dim-- the sun must have set, and night is falling. No one else has approached her cell for any reason. She hears a rustling noise, then a few squeaks, and then shudders in revulsion as she recognizes the sounds for what they are-- rats, coming out of their holes, are in her cell, eating what’s left of the rotten food. Li huddles as far away from where it had been left as she can with the chain around her ankle, and doesn’t manage to fall asleep until the noises are gone. 

This goes on for an indeterminate number of days.

It is perhaps a week, or perhaps a fortnight, when a guard approaches her cell, and isn’t alone. Li, weakened by cold and the lack of food and sleep, barely stirs from her spot by the wall at the sound of footsteps, but when her door is unlocked, her head snaps up, and she comes face-to-face with someone she has never seen before. The individual is tall and broad-shouldered, garbed in the finery of court, but the face is almost feminine, with full lips and smooth cheeks. A sculpted eyebrow raises, and the courtier stoops, seemingly unmindful of the filthy dungeon floor. A warm hand tips up Li’s face and critically but not unkindly, and the newcomer takes in her features, then gives her a crooked smile.

“Well, well. You’d be a regular beauty out of this disgusting get-up, wouldn’t you?” 

“You know I can’t leave you unattended with the prisoner, Tan Gong,” the guard gives the courtier an obsequious but somewhat pained smile. “His Majesty would have my head, and the lives of all my family, if something were to happen to her.”

“I don’t think you are in a place to question my integrity,” the courtier-- a eunuch, Li realizes-- drawls in a cold voice. “I have served His Majesty’s own daughter for fifteen years. And surely you would not expect one such as myself to visit some mischief upon the lady?” A cynical smile touches those full lips. “She’s safer with me than any other man in His Majesty’s employ, I daresay. And I am here on orders of Her Highness. You’ll leave us be.”

The guard acquiesces, though Li notices that he locks the courtier into the cell and stands watch a short distance away at the end of the corridor. Tan Gong pays him no mind, however, and briskly clears a space on the dirty floor as though accustomed to even the most menial of tasks, and perhaps that is the case. Eunuchs often started out their careers by cleaning the living spaces of the Emperor or his harem, but then again, could reach positions of great power in court. Li clears her throat a few times before the words come out. “You’re here on orders of Her Highness?”

“Indeed, my lady. Your cousin, Her Highness the Princess He-Tian, my mistress.” Tan Gong affords her a small smile as he competently lays out a sheet on the floor, then brings out a clayware pot that smells divinely of ginger and spices. “Here, eat. It’s chicken soup with medicinal herbs to ward off the ague, rebuild your strength.” As Li stares, bewildered, he cheekily brings a spoonful to his own lips, then grins at her before spooning up some for her as well. “I promise it’s not poisoned, see?”

Li sips cautiously, and then as the broth warms her body all the way down, falls upon the food with a ravenous hunger. Tan Gong lets her eat, and efficiently puts away the pot and utensils once she’s done, and belatedly, Li realizes that he had also cleaned out the worst of the mess in the cell and even left her a sturdy blanket by the wall. “T-thank you,” she stutters, staring at him. “I’m sorry. I still don’t know why you’re here.”

“As I said, on behalf of Her Highness, your cousin. Your Uncle has not been available to deal with you yet, but if Her Highness has any say in it, she’d like to keep you alive. She’s a kind soul, and then that man who has been sending missives on your behalf has only strengthened her determination. Handsome fellow, quite distraught when he’d found out that you were in here. I don’t quite know how he managed to get through to our secluded part of the palace, but we’ve had him in for tea. I’m sure you know who I’m referring to.” Once again, Tan Gong raises a fine eyebrow and grins. “It would be out of the question for a commoner to visit here, of course. And certainly this damp air would be far too much for Her Highness herself. So here I am. Now, are you injured at all?”

“Nothing serious, no,” Li murmurs. She’d attained some cuts and bruises during the battle, of course, but they were healing, slowly. Tan Gong gives her a quick survey, then pulls another small parcel out, wrapped in bamboo leaves and with an astringent smell. 

“Well, if you do have any injuries, here’s some salve. Witch hazel and willow bark. I’ll let you help yourself.” He straightens, and gives her a courtly bow. “Be strong, my lady. You will live through this, I’ll make sure of it. I will return in a few days.”

As though on cue, the guard reappears around the corridor, and comes over to let him out. Li watches as the enigmatic courtier disappears out of the dungeon, and wonders about his oblique mention of Jin. For it must have been Jin, who’d somehow managed to gain an audience with the princess. Foolish, noble, infuriating Jin, who should have run away from this mess when she’d told him to. If she’d ever see him again…

The rats still come to poach her untouched supper that evening, but Li pays them no mind. She falls asleep with salve anointed over her bruised limbs, tearstains drying on her face, but smiling.

**

Tan Gong does indeed return a few days later, this time earlier in the day and not alone. He is accompanied by an elegant lady in turquoise silk, with lapis ornaments in her wavy hair. On this visit, he brings Li a steaming pot of rice congee with goji berries and red jujubes and lotus seeds, and introduces his companion as Mi-Qiao, also a member of Princess He-Tian’s retinue. The two of them say very little about their mistress, Li’s mysterious cousin and benefactor, but see to what creature comforts they can in the time that they have in that dingy little cell. Tan Gong even bullies the guards into bringing in a pail of hot water, and then stands watch, back respectfully turned, as Mi-Qiao uses that and a ball of soap redolent of tea tree and chrysanthemum to meticulously wash Li’s hair. They leave scrupulously within the allotted time, after Tan Gong once again tidies up the cell, and he waves off Li’s bewildered thanks with another promise to return. Once again, though the guards put up a token protest, they defer to Tan Gong with unquestionable respect, and it is quite apparent that for all he and Mi-Qiao may be playing the role of lowly domestic servants, they wield immense power in their own way.

Her wounds are almost completely healed by the time Tan Gong visits again, but this time he comes at dead of night, and Li isn’t aware of his presence until he gently shakes her awake. Reflexively, she lashes out with the sort of inner energy attack that she’d learned in the training yard of Scholar Zuo’s villa, but she’s surprised to see him deflect it with a wave of one hand, the energy ricocheting up to the ceiling and tumbling down as bits of broken plaster. It’s more than enough to startle her wide awake, and she jerks herself up into a seated position to look into the courtier’s inscrutable eyes. 

“What time is it? Why are you here? What was that?” She gestures, wildly, at the bits of plaster still raining down onto the floor. He doesn’t seem to have any sort of parcels with him this time aside from a small lamp, just bright enough to illuminate the cell.

“Oh, my lady, surely you didn’t think that my skills were limited to tidying, did you?” Tan Gong chuckles, but he looks-- almost nervous, certainly different from his usual calm confidence. Now, stooped over her, Li can feel the strength of his Qi, and it is formidable-- though he’d played the role of courtier and domestic servant flawlessly, the eunuch is no less skilled of a warrior than any that she might have met in her travels. “I will not be back. There is much left uncertain, and if all goes ill, I might not make it through.” Though Li starts in alarm at his words, he shushes her, eyes the door of her cell warily, and that is when Li notices that there are no guards hovering nearby. 

“What’s happening?” she whispers urgently. “Why are you here?”

“My mistress would’ve wanted me to do this,” he replies, then gently moves her blanket up so that the shackle on her ankle is exposed. “I apologize, this may hurt a little.” He takes a seat on the ground, cross-legged in the lotus position, and puts his hands together as though in prayer as he draws in a deep breath, and Li can all but feel the vibrations in the air as his inner energy builds-builds-builds. And then without warning, quick and heavy as a hammer, the heel of his palm comes down on the shackle. There is a twinge of pain in her ankle from the force, but she forgets that as, right before her astonished eyes, the shackle shatters into several pieces, as though it were made of porcelain rather than steel. Another blow and the lock on the cell door breaks into pieces as well. Li rubs her sore ankle, then struggles to her feet and stares at Tan Gong. 

“Who are you, exactly?”

“Tan Huo-Ren, titled ‘Gong’. The bodyguard and secretary of Her Highness, Princess He-Tian, as you already know.” The eunuch offers her an elaborate courtly bow, and then follows it with the courtesy of a religious temple acolyte, equally flawlessly executed, and those full lips curve in that familiar wry smile. “I lived and trained amongst the Iron Monks of Shaolin for twenty years before attaining a position in the Imperial court. If that’s what you were asking.” He straightens, and picks up his lamp before sliding back out the door of the cell. “I must go now and return to my mistress. She’ll need to be kept safe, with… well. Wait a while before you leave. Wait til you don’t hear any noise outside.”

Then, he slips away, dousing the lamp as he goes, before Li has the time to ask any more questions. She keeps silent, though, and listens. There are no rustles and squeaks of rodents tonight, but, almost too far-off to hear clearly, there’s the sound of metal against metal, indistinct shouting. The sounds of battle, unmistakably, though there’s no good reason for it here, in the heart of a heavily-fortified palace at this hour of night. Alert and on edge, Li silently counts the endless hours til morning.


	16. Chapter 15

At first light, armed with only a piece of splintered metal from the broken shackle, Li sneaks out of her cell and cautiously makes her way down the corridor of the dungeon, her back pressed to the wall. Much to her surprise, she does not find any guards to stop her path, even when she reaches the main door. No one’s there to stop her as she walks, blinking, into the sunlight.

She gasps in shock at the gruesome sight before her, of a dead palace guard laying in a pool of his own blood in the midst of a courtyard. He’s not the only one, either-- there were dead soldiers everywhere, from the looks of it. Indeed, it’s shocking that Tan Gong had even managed to make his way into the prison compound to see her, with the carnage raging all around. He-Tian-- and her entourage-- were formidable, indeed. 

Li is sickened by the sight of the battle, but not completely impractical. Dead soldiers still carried armaments, and she might well need to defend herself yet. Swallowing down her nausea, she leans over the nearest unmoving body and removes his belt, fastening it-- and the willow-leaf saber sheathed upon it-- on herself. Thus armed, she creeps silently forward, trying to navigate her way around a palatial compound in search of a familiar face or an answer.

She doesn’t find one, not immediately. There are hints of unrest-- the graceful compounds that must house the Emperor’s harem and familial quarters are heavily locked down, with men in unfamiliar garb standing guard at the doors. From more than one cracked window, she can hear the sounds of women or children weeping, but she continues forward. 

She approaches a large courtyard, and the sound of voices stops her from entering, and Li instinctually hides herself behind the sturdy bole of a towering aspen as she watches the proceedings. There’s a military platoon in there, its commander tall and stalwart on a spotless white horse, armed with a gleaming _Guan-dao_ the same bright silver as his hair. He pulls away from formation to drop a cowering figure none-too-gently on the ground in front of a young, handsome nobleman in blue-lined black silk, seated at the very center of the courtyard. Li stifles a gasp in recognition of what the general’s prisoner is wearing-- Imperial yellow dragon robes, and a crown on his head. But the general forces Emperor Shuo-Xing down to his knees in front of the young nobleman, who raises his chin and speaks, his voice ringing out in the quiet courtyard.

“For close to twenty years, the people of our great country have suffered under your tyranny. You’ve turned a blind eye to the hardships of your people, Emperor-- the famines, the floods, the persecution of innocents under corrupt officials of the court. You’ve killed countless good men and women who’ve been blameless of anything but being associated with people you saw as a threat. You’ve let your cronies destroy some of the finest works of our great heritage-- in the interests of your own lusts for blood and profit. We will tolerate this no longer: all the divine oracles have augured the truth-- that you have lost the Mandate of Heaven. Now, you are brought here, in front of witnesses, to be given the opportunity to abdicate peacefully. Will you take this chance?”

“I’ll see you in hell, Duke En. You impudent pup-- how dare you!?”

It is her uncle, Li realizes with a shudder before taking a closer look. Now, alone and bedraggled, forced onto his knees, he doesn’t look so powerful after all. Simply a vile, amoral old man. The nobleman, Duke En, sighs and raises his chin. 

“Then I will see you answer to all your crimes, before a court of representatives from all the provinces. I doubt that will go over well for you, Emperor, but as you wish. General Kang, take him away.”

“Yes, My Lord.” With little ceremony, the silver-haired general dismounts, drags the Emperor to his feet, forcibly removing the crown from his grizzled head, and binds him like a common criminal before handing him off to the custody of the lesser soldiers. Then, he takes a knee before the young nobleman, and bows his head. “All Hail Emperor En-Di! May his reign be long and prosperous!”

“All Hail Emperor En-Di! May his reign be long and prosperous!” The soldiers echo this sentiment, their voices a roar, and Li gasps as the significance of what she is witnessing hits her. It’s a coup-- undoubtedly staged by the citizens who had suffered for so long under her uncle’s despotic rule. Shuo-Xing’s power was gone-- his supporters and troops decimated down to the very palace guards. The young nobleman-- Duke En-- was the newly appointed ruler.

But what did that mean for her? Would she, too, be eliminated as a threat, much as Shuo-Xing had attempted to? There was little wisdom in staying long enough to find out. 

Keeping her head down, ducking behind trees and rockeries and pavilions for cover, Li flees the courtyard and runs for the palace gates.

**

She makes it out sometime around midday, and spots a familiar figure standing sentinel right outside the walls, golden hair glinting in the sunlight. Jin looks exhausted, his blue eyes standing out in sharp relief against the dark shadows under them, and his clothes are a wrinkled mess as though he’d possibly stood there, unsleeping, for days. And all at once, the fear and exhaustion and emotional upheaval catches up to her. Though it’s certainly unseemly, and she’s still filthy from being locked up in a cell and stumbling forward on bare feet, she’s ensconced in his arms a moment later, his hands tangled in her hair, lips moving feverishly over her own. She gasps, and tastes tears on her tongue, and can’t tell if they’re his or hers. Even when they break apart to breathe, she clings to his shoulders, and lets the rise and fall of his chest against hers settle her. His cheek is rough against hers, as though he hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days, and her breath shudders out in a sigh. 

“I’m sure I look frightful.”

His breath is warm and ticklish against her temple as he continues to hold her close. “A bit unkempt, perhaps, but you’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He tilts up her face with careful fingers, and brushes his lips over hers again, gently this time. “When I’d realized that they’d taken you, I felt as though my heart had stopped.”

“I’m here. It’s been… a lot has happened.” 

Still clinging to him as though she had every right to, she gives him a brief accounting of her incarceration-- the strange visits from Princess He-Tian’s servants, the late-night rescue right before the coup. And then she listens as he recounts how he’d bribed and wheedled his way into an audience with the princess, who’d listened to his accounting over tea before having him escorted out. However, on the following day, she had sent another one of her staff-- a soft-spoken lady by the name of Song-Na-- to the inn where he was staying. He’d been given a hundred taels of silver and a delicate watercolour painting of a tiny pavilion at the summit of a snow-capped mountain, backdropped against a gloomy sky. On the margin, written in delicate calligraphy, is a transcription of a classic Li Bo poem:

_The high tower is a hundred feet tall,_   
_From here one's hand could pluck the stars._   
_I do not dare to speak in a loud voice,_   
_I fear to disturb the people in heaven._

“It was clear that she wanted to send a message that, if intercepted, would seem innocuous enough,” Jin tells her slowly. “I understood well enough-- that my presence in the palace was dangerous, and if it got back to the wrong people, it would endanger all of our lives. And so I accepted it, and had no choice but to wait for her word, via her emissaries. She did let me know, a few days later, that you were still alive, and she would be checking on you periodically. And so she kept her word, at least until last night. Song-Na had no messages, only that there was trouble, and a great deal of it, but Her Highness would do what she could to see to your safety.” 

“I owe her my life, I’m sure,” Li murmurs, her head still leaning against his chest. “Many times over. Oh-- is it terrible that I hope that the new establishment spares her? Is there any way for us to find out?”

“I don’t know,” Jin says honestly, before tilting her face up to meet his again. “I’ll make some discreet inquiries. Tomorrow. After you’ve rested.” Rough, warm fingertips caress the side of her face, then smooth over her tangled hair. “We’ll rescue her if we must. I owe her, too.”

Her lips curve up, sleepy but mischievous. “It will take a lot of flute playing to earn a hundred taels of silver.”

His chest rumbles with laughter against her ear. “That, too. But more than that, if you owe her your life, I owe her my happiness. For that would be impossible without you.”

**

The first thing she does is bathe. Li scrubs her whole body down from head to toe in steaming hot water until her skin is reddened and there are no more tangles in her hair. Jin stays downstairs, and she can hear snatches of flute music, melancholy and whimsical by turns, wafting in faintly from the inn’s common room. Li dries herself off and takes the time to put on a clean set of clothes, and to speculate, just a little, at what the future might bring. 

When she’d seen him, standing there as though he’d been waiting for her for eons, she’d thrown herself into his arms, in broad daylight, quite possibly in the view of any passersby. She’d kissed him and cried, and he had held her.

That was definitely new. 

Li shivers a little, as the memory of that fiery, ugly battle with Kong Lian rises in her mind. The mercenary, too, had referred to Jin as her lover, though she’d barely registered the comment at the time. They had never spoken of a future in which they’d be together, not when there were so many risks, so much at stake. He’d assumed, in fact, that she’d choose to fulfill her birthright, after all was said and done. Perhaps he’d envisioned her as royalty-- unreachable and isolated, dutybound to the good of many as opposed to the wishes of one. But there was a new ruler now, and when all was said and done, those who had wronged her had been defeated, and the deaths of her parents and her fellow Sect members had been avenged.

What did she want? That was the real question.

She wanted to meet more people, like Scholar Zuo and Master Nai, and attain new skills. She wanted to be fair, and honourable, and do right by the people she knew. She wanted to see the sun rise over misty mountains and set over sparkling seas. She wanted to find, if she could, others who’d come from the _Emei_ Sect, and ensure that the lessons from an old priest who’d done her and her mother an unrepayable kindness would never be forgotten. 

She wanted to know that Jin, who’d somehow changed from a serendipitous acquaintance, to a friend, to the one who mattered more than anybody else to her, would be at her side as they traversed through life together. 

Taking a deep breath, she ties back her hair, and makes her way downstairs, following the soft strains of flute song. Jin is still playing for his supper, some folk song about a girl who presents her lover with gifts of papaya and peaches and receives jade in return, repaying her gift of sweetness with his vow of constancy. He’s facing away from her when she walks in, but he seems to sense her arrival, though the melody from the flute doesn’t pause. But he turns his head after a moment, and the warmth in blue eyes brings a flush to her cheekbones. 

She lets the innkeeper bring her a pot of tea and a bowl of wonton soup, and eats her meal at a leisurely pace. It’s a quiet night-- the chaos and upheaval of the palace has yet to reach down to the people-- and she lets herself enjoy this hard-won moment of peace. The peace might be ephemeral, perhaps, but the love-- that would be as eternal as the mountains and seas.


	17. Chapter 16

It’s perhaps a week later that a messenger from the new Imperial court, along with a cavalry guard, comes to the inn where they’re staying with a royal decree. As everyone in the courtyard takes a knee in deference, the courier unfurls a scroll and reads.

“It is the will of His Majesty, the En-Di Emperor, that Lady Ru-Yuan, sole issue of Emperor Tan-Xing and his Empress Lady Rui-Sha of the House of Han, be summoned to the royal palace for an audience with the Son of Heaven. Lady Ru-Yuan and her companion, the gallant Zhou Jin of the _Kunlun_ Sect, will be awarded five thousand taels of silver for their acts of heroism in protecting Prefect Guo Wu-Ming from attack by the foreign mercenary Clíodhna, alias Kong Lian, and defeating said mercenary in battle, eradicating a deadly threat to our great empire’s security and the safety of our people. Lady Ru-Yuan and Zhou Jin are to be escorted into the royal palace by honour guard at once. So it is willed, and so it will be.”

Li rises to her feet, and takes a closer look at the group of men on horseback who had escorted the courier. At the head of the group is the same silver-haired general whom she had seen in the palace courtyard before she’d made her escape, watching her with cool but curious eyes. And then, a few paces behind him, is a familiar face, and she cracks a smile. 

“Tan Gong!”

“At your service, my lady.” The courtier pulls forward, looking no worse for wear despite the mayhem at the royal palace, courtesies from his own perch. A grin crosses his lips, and he nods in approval. “I am pleased to meet you under much improved circumstances from last time. Will you come with us?”

“We will. Just give us a moment to saddle up the horses and gather our belongings.”

At that, Tan Gong chuffs out a laugh, and gestures behind the group of soldiers standing at attention. “Ladies do not travel on horseback. We have a palanquin ready for both of you.” Indeed, Li belatedly notices an elaborate litter big enough for two, carved of ebony and canopied by golden silk embroidered with dragons, as well as a dozen burly porters standing at attention ready to bear their weight. 

In short order, they are en route to the palace compound, comfortably seated in the cushioned chairs of the litter and shaded from the sunlight. They are brought to one of the lesser palaces, usually kept in reserve for members of the Emperor’s family or perhaps visiting nobility, and brought to separate chambers to prepare. A veritable army of ladies’ maids descend upon Li, and she is somewhat relieved to see another familiar face-- Mi-Qiao, who had accompanied Tan Gong on one of the latter’s visits to her in the dungeon. She is bathed and pampered and meticulously dressed in an opulent cheongsam of crimson silk embroidered with graceful golden lilies. Mi-Qiao painstakingly arranges her hair in an intricate series of loops and braids held together with ruby hairpins, and fastens jewels around her neck and wrists. Li barely recognizes her own reflection in the mirror by the time they finally step back. 

She meets Jin in the courtyard, and he, too, is wearing court dress-- a silk brocade tunic in sky blue with wide sleeves, tastefully adorned with a pattern in a darker sapphire blue along the hems. He does a double-take when he sees her, and gives her a long, appreciative look before his lips curve up in that familiar smile. “You are a vision of loveliness, my lady.”

“I’m surprised that this dress isn’t more difficult to move about in, but it’s tolerable,” Li quips, blushing faintly under his gaze. “You look very handsome.”

“I look like a man wearing fine clothes. You, on the other hand, look like a goddess gracing us mere mortals with her presence for the span of a single evening.” Despite the gaggle of servants surrounding them, he boldly takes her hand, and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. His smile widens, and an impish look enters his eyes. “But, this hand is familiar as my own. The same bow calluses, the same pulse pressing against my thumb.” He gives her hand another squeeze before releasing it. “Let’s see what His Majesty wants from us.”

**

They are brought to a stately, expansive great hall, where the handsome young emperor holds court, flanked by his civil advisors on his right side and his military commanders on the left. Li and Jin are announced by none other than Tan Gong, who clearly still wields a great deal of power in this new court as with the last, and they take a knee before Emperor En-Di, wishing him a long and prosperous life. 

“Please rise, my guests.” En-Di has a serious but compassionate face, and offers them a faint nod. “The honour is mine, to be in the company of two such gallants as you. The reign of terror of Shuo-Xing, carried out by his henchwoman, has cast a dark cloud upon our kingdom for a long time. It is fitting indeed that the long-lost princess would be the one to bring that bloodthirsty woman to justice.”

“She had stormed the Magistrate’s court prepared to kill him in cold blood,” Li says quietly. “We did what we had to, in defense of innocent life. And she was the one to carry out the orders to sack the Golden Temple and kill all its occupants.”

“Indeed. Such viciousness and callous disregard for life has no place in a civilized world. Still, she’s reputed to be a powerful warrior who doesn’t care to fight with honour. You must be a fighter of divine skill to defeat her in battle. I have heard some accounts by witnesses who’d seen part of the skirmish, and every single one has expressed astonishment at your prowess.” En-Di smiles faintly, then continues. “But all that can be discussed later, perhaps with dinner. I did not summon you two here just to rehash war stories.” He takes a long look at Li, and his serious cobalt eyes soften, just a little. “I am a distant relation to you, my lady. My great-grandfather was the brother of Empress Tai-Rui, who gave birth to Emperor Yi-Xian, father of both Tan-Xing and Shuo-Xing. And as such, it is the least that I could do to offer you a place in my court. You would have considerable power, and a comfortable life, and I give you my word that you will be given all the respect and authority due to you for so long as you shall live. I may have stripped Shuo-Xing of power, but that is not without the will of the people, and I have no intention of visiting retribution upon any of my surviving relatives.” He gestures at one of the countless attending nobles, and she steps forward. “I offered the same to Lady He-Tian, Shuo-Xing’s daughter. She was the one who mentioned you, actually.”

Li turns in surprise, and lays eyes for the first time on her mysterious cousin. He-Tian is porcelain-pale and fine-featured, her sable hair looking almost too heavy for her petite build. The amethyst cheongsam she wears only emphasizes the delicacy of her face, the slimness of her hands. But eyes that are the same colour and shape as Li’s own, tranquil and wise beyond her years, meet hers, and she smiles as she courtesies. “We meet at last, cousin.”

Li returns He-Tian’s flawless courtesy, and smiles back. “I owe you my life several times over. Thank you.”

“Everyone will have to eventually meet their maker, but not before their time, and not cut down by the blades of injustice. I would not have your blood on my hands. I can only apologize for the sins of my father.”

“They’re his sins, not yours, and so the fates are kinder to you as well. I am pleased that you are safe, and happy.” 

“Lady He-Tian will be Deputy Secretary of Arts and Culture, and will oversee the collection, curation and exhibition of all fine and decorative arts, calligraphy, literature, music and dance for the Royal Archives as well as gifts to the general public. She is highly skilled and knowledgeable, and is well suited for the role,” Emperor En-Di interjects, and he once again turns his cobalt blue eyes towards Li. “I would find you a place as well suited to your talents and skills if you so desire.”

He hadn’t mentioned any such offer to Jin, but then again, perhaps familial loyalty, such as it is, meant more to him than Jin’s presence by her side through the whole debacle. Li is quite certain that a place in En-Di’s court meant peace and security. No more hard-won battles or sleeping with one eye open. But… she glances at Jin, then turns her attention back to En-Di. “Your offer is most gracious, Your Majesty. Might I have some time to consider my options?”

“Of course,” En-Di says kindly. “You will stay here for the night, as my honoured guests. I won’t have you paying for a bed at some noisy inn, not after the heroic deeds you have done. Come, we shall dine, and you can tell me about your training.”

**

They share a leisurely but extravagant meal of such delicacies as braised abalone and smoked quail, spicy pickled lotus roots, and wild mushrooms and bamboo shoots sauteed with two types of bean curd. En-Di carries on the conversation and introduces several of the courtiers and guests to them. Numbered in that group include his betrothed, Lady Sai-Lin, a dainty, effervescent lady with hair like moonshine and the friendliness of a swallow in the springtime. They also make the acquaintance of silver-haired, stern-featured General Kang, who is seated next to his own wife, a golden-gowned lady of extraordinary beauty. He is the Field Marshal of His Majesty’s army, who had trained with the priests of Mount Wudang for the first twenty years of his life, and is widely acknowledged as the greatest warrior in the capital city. 

Li tells him a little bit of her own training-- how she had come to be at the Golden Temple, and then the journey which had taken her all the way to the Capital after He-Tian’s mysterious letter. She tells him about meeting Jin by chance, and how they had become traveling companions, then friends, and returns Jin’s smile with one of her own. The story gets a bit harder to tell when she recounts that devastating day that she’d learnt of the death and destruction that Kong Lian had visited upon the temple and all of her friends and mentors. At En-Di’s side, Lady Sai-Lin’s eyes fill with sympathetic tears, and the Emperor himself is solemn, clearing his throat when Li pauses, too overcome to continue.

“We shall raise our cups and drink to an honourable and virtuous Sect of the _Wu-Lin_ , which shall not be extinguished by the vindictiveness of a grasping tyrant and his unprincipled minions. I shall put out a royal decree that any remaining practitioners of the _Emei_ Sect shall be handsomely recompensed for any services they render in the efforts to restore their legacy, and issue a pardon to any who might have been wrongfully fined or imprisoned for their ties to the Golden Temple.” En-Di waits until everyone present has had their cups refilled, then raises his in salute. “To our brothers and sisters of the _Emei_ Sect, we humbly honour your sacrifice, and pray for your forgiveness. May the gods bless you.”

The wine still burns as it goes down, but it does serve the purpose of clearing the haze in her vision, the sting in her eyes, and Li continues her story, of how she and Jin had continued their training with Master Nai of the Beggars’ Sect, and then sought out the counsel of Scholar Zuo. She finishes with an accounting of her audience with the local Prefect, and Kong Lian’s appearance at the _Ya-men_. She gives only a simplified accounting of that final, fierce battle, shuddering at the memories, before giving a slightly more detailed accounting of her time spent in the dungeon, crediting the sporadic clandestine visits from He-Tian’s retinue as instrumental in keeping her alive and sane. 

“They, too, will be rewarded for their courage and service,” En-Di decrees, much to his bride’s beaming approval. A grin which transforms his solemn face into something almost boyishly approachable crosses his lips. “I’d love to see the two of you spar with General Kang sometime. If you’re willing, of course.”

Li exchanges glances with Jin, and acquiesces, and the spar is set for the next morning, in one of the larger courtyards. Soon after dinner, they are shown to their quarters, in two separate guest palaces for propriety’s sake, and that night, Li finds herself waited on by no less than four chambermaids, fussed over and pampered within an inch of her life before left to her evening’s rest in a resplendent bedchamber all gilt and rosewood and glossy silk, fragrant with sandalwood incense and decorated with masterful paintings of cranes in flight and lakes reflecting moonlight. She wakes up twice in the middle of the night, groggily aware of one of the chambermaids replenishing the incense in the burner on both occasions. 

And yet, in the morning, though they must have taken their own rest only in snatches, the chambermaids are no less solicitous, and Li is served the finest tea and dainty portions of salted duck eggs and congee, fresh fruit and pastries. They escort her-- dressed for comfort and ease of movement in black linen this morning-- to the courtyard for the friendly spar.

Jin is there when she arrives, and so is General Kang. The courtyard is cleared like a makeshift stage, with Emperor En-Di and his betrothed, along with Lady He-Tian, and several other prominent members of the court, seated at a dais. There is a rack of weapons available for their selection, and Li arms herself with her preferred sword and darts. Jin, too, picks a machete and a quarterstaff, and the General picks the _Guan-dao_ that Li had seen him carry before. They bow to the Emperor, then each other, and the spar begins.

It is immediately apparent that the pale-haired warrior deserves every bit of his reputation as an unparalleled fighter-- for such a tall man, armed with such a heavy blade, he moves with the speed and fluidity of wind and water, parrying attacks from both Jin and Li while keeping up a flawless defense. The combination of flowing movement and masterful technique speak to Kang’s _Wudang_ Sect training, and his rigorous discipline in perfecting his craft shines as brightly as the silver blade he wields. 

They are unable to land even a blow on the man for the first few rounds, and it is only after a perfectly executed feint from Jin which draws Kang’s attack his way that Li manages to come close enough to his undefended other side, darts at the ready. Kang senses the attack a split-second before it hits his face, and the wave of inner energy that he shoots at Li is powerful enough to send her flying. She barely manages to land on her feet, almost out of the boundaries of the makeshift stage, but dauntlessly prepares to dive back into the fray just as En-Di calls out, “HALT!”

They separate, and turn towards the Emperor, who has a look of approval on his face as he applauds. “Outstanding form and technique. My highest compliments to you both, for I daresay you gave General Kang an excellent fight, better than he’s had in a friendly spar in a while.”

“I can see the training paths that you both have taken, in your forms and techniques, and the teamwork that you two have mastered would be the envy of some of my finest troops,” General Kang remarks, and he inclines his head in a respectful bow. “I daresay that I would be speaking for His Majesty as well, if I were to offer the two of you posts as Colonels, officers in command of your own regiment of troops.”

“You know me well, General,” En-Di smiles, then turns to Li and Jin. “As per our conversation over dinner last night, I would be pleased and honoured to have you in a position of power in my court, my lady. You would have plenty of money and security and privilege, and a comfortable life. What do you say?”

Money and security and privilege, and a comfortable life. Undoubtedly a finely appointed house in town, dozens of servants. 

But there would be no more long talks under the starlight, or watching Jin play and haggle for his supper at a strange tavern, or the freedom to go wherever they wished. En-Di would be a good ruler, Li intuits, with his thoughtful mind. His reign would be peaceful and prosperous, and hopefully he’d live to a good ripe age alongside his pretty, tender-hearted wife. But being part of the ruling class, even one as well-intentioned as this, would be a loss of a great deal of freedom. 

Li reaches for Jin’s hand, and together, they kneel in respect to En-Di, but her voice is strong and certain when she answers. “I am more than flattered by your generous offer, Your Majesty, but I think my world-- our world-- is out there, with the people and the four winds and the mountains and seas. I hope that you understand.”

En-Di mulls this over, and then nods, gesturing for them to stand. “The offer still stands, should you change your mind in the future. But I know that you will do just as much good, wherever fate takes the two of you. Please stay as my esteemed guests for a few days so we may ready some supplies for you.”

“Thank you,” Li lets out a breath that she hadn’t realized that she’d been holding, and feels the strength of Jin’s fingers still wrapped around hers, an unspoken promise made flesh. “We appreciate your generosity, Your Majesty.”

“You two are welcome to visit at any time, and I hope that you do,” En-Di says warmly. “Sai-Lin and I will pray for your good fortune and continued safety on your travels.”


	18. Epilogue

Suzhou is lovely in the way of a picturesque southern town, teeming with trees and gardens and sparkling waterways, all whitewashed buildings with mossy green roofs. The local tavern features a good selection of soup dumplings and fresh seafood-- lake fish and white smelt steamed still fresh from the fishermen’s boats, eels fried in sweet sauce-- and does a brisk business feeding itinerant travelers and the merchants who brought the region’s famed exports of silk and pearlware to all corners of the kingdom. The barkeep glances up, but only for a moment, when two strangers walk in through the doors. A tall man with a head of golden curls and a machete strapped to his broad shoulders, an elegant woman wearing a man’s hanfu and carrying both a sword and a longbow with full quiver, her beauty not at all eclipsed by the utilitarian, masculine lines of her garb. Undoubtedly, just from the way they carry themselves, the watchful eyes and graceful strides, they are warriors of great skill from the _Wu-Lin_ , but this, too, isn’t unusual. His city, much like many others along the trade route known as the Silk Road, is a well-known resting place for this breed of quietly valiant travelers. They find a secluded table off to the side, and the barkeep signals for a serving boy to bring them a gourd of wine.

“I still don’t understand how you drink that stuff.” Li wrinkles her nose even as Jin pours a mug of the spirits for himself. “It tastes like burning ash and vinegar.”

Jin laughs, and politely asks the serving boy for a pot of tea, then turns to his companion with a grin. “You will still never pass yourself off convincingly as a man, no matter what you wear.”

“I don’t consider it a weakness that I’m not fond of that swill.” Li scowls, though the effect is ruined somewhat by the amused glint in her eyes as she hangs up her bow and settles into her seat. “Not all men are drunken sots, no matter what the company you keep might have you believe.”

“I have not been keeping strange company for quite a long time, I daresay, my lady. And no one does the drunken sot thing better than the courtiers in the capital city.” 

The serving boy brings them an assortment of cold meats, and bowls of rice, followed by a bamboo steamer of soup dumplings with bottles of dipping sauce and shallow plates. This is more agreeable to the lady than the wine, and she gives the lad a gracious smile, almost causing him to stumble over a nearby bench. Jin eyes the boy, who can’t be more than thirteen, with sympathy. 

“It’s a tough time, when one starts to realize that girls are starting to distract you in a completely different way than before. And you, my lady, are an especially distracting specimen. Poor lad. I hope the barkeep does not dock his pay or beat him if he drops a plate or two.”

“I am dressed to blend in,” Li scowls at him again, but he merely grins.

“I have seen you in court dress, when you had the audience of His Majesty, Emperor En-Di. And indeed, as the saying goes, your beauty could shame the moon and redden the azaleas. But I daresay you’re equally distracting in that shapeless thing you’ve got on now. Perhaps it’s a good thing that most courtiers are, as you say, drunken sots. You might have ended up betrothed to one or another as a politically advantageous match. Indeed, I’m surprised that His Majesty didn’t offer for you, himself. He’s a young man still, and vigorous.”

“He has his chosen bride, Lady Sai-Lin, and she will make him a fine Empress.” Li had met the new monarch’s betrothed, a spritely, dainty maiden with crystalline blue eyes and hair like woven moonlight, sweet-faced and pure-hearted. Lady Sai-Lin would bring a much-needed sense of compassion and humanity to her husband, and that would be of infinite value to a kingdom left floundering under the tyranny of the despotic ruler who’d preceded him. “Perhaps in another few years, once everything has settled down, we can pay them a visit.”

“I am sure your cousin will keep you apprised of all the comings and goings of court life in her correspondence.” Indeed, the former Princess He-Tian, for all she was a frail, delicate slip of a lady, had proven to be a most unexpected and formidable ally. Li reflects that it is wise of Emperor En-Di to spare the daughter of the tyrant he’d deposed and offer her a comfortable life as part of his royal court. He-Tian might be physically feeble, but behind the fragile limbs and wan countenance is a mind and will of the same unyielding sharp iron of the finest sword. He-Tian, unlike her bloodthirsty Sire, was granted a royal pardon and allowed to live out her life in peace and comfort, retaining her own retinue of loyal servants and caretakers. In time, perhaps, He-Tian would even come to consider the new ruling family to be her friends. 

The serving boy brings them some fried fish and vegetables, and another gourd of wine, goggling at Li as he refills her teacup. Perhaps had he known that she was the daughter of an emperor, he would have been less bold, or perhaps not. They enjoy a quiet meal, even as Li continues to disparage the wine, but then the sounds of a brewing altercation reaches their ears. 

A serving girl, perhaps the older sister of the boy who’d been bringing them wine and food, is floundering and shying away from the unwanted attentions of a gang of ruffians stationed at a table by the door. It only takes an instant to discern what sort of proposition they might have visited upon her, and though the barkeep looks indignant and worried from his own station, the shining axes and maces strapped to the backs of the group prevent him from speaking out. One of the ruffians sticks out a leg and trips her, and the whole group bursts into raucous laughter when she falls, her skirts flipping up to reveal trim ankles. 

“And this is the exact reason why it does not do to overindulge in drinking and carousing,” Li mutters in disapproval even as she sets down her cup of tea with a decisive clink. Jin meets her eye, then exchanges a quick glance with the barkeep even as he lays several taels of silver on the table-- far too great a quantity just to cover the cost of their meal. 

The imminent property damage would be kept to a minimum, of course. But then again, ruffians of that variety didn’t tend to be very sharp. It might take a while to get them outside and away from innocent bystanders and breakables. 

“It is not gentlemanly to sport with a maiden, and no amount of wine excuses it.” Li’s voice rings out with disapproval as she approaches the group of ruffians, head held high. “But of course, one can’t expect any knowledge of gentlemanly behaviour from riff-raff such as you.”

“And I suppose your mission here is to teach us riff-raff all about gentlemanly behaviour,” One of the ruffians responds with a leer, reaching out a burly hand to touch her hair. “Well, pretty instructress, let’s see what you have to offer.”

A thin, sharp object glints in the air, then pierces his hand with a flick of her wrist. Li wields a set of _Emei_ darts, attached to slim golden rings that she can slip onto her fingers, with deadly skill. The boor jerks his bleeding hand back, then roars in rage and rushes at her, fists flying. Li spins out of his reach, pulling an iron-backed fan out of the folds of her hanfu and hitting the brute on the wrist with deadly precision before his strike could land. It’s an unlikely weapon-- the accessory of a highborn lady or a court scholar-- but she’d come to master an array of non-traditional implements in her time roaming across the countryside. It is, undoubtedly and one hundred percent, Jin’s influence. 

_Anything might happen in the real world-- on a lonely stretch of road, or in a seedy pub, or in a city teeming with decadence and corruption. You’d best be prepared for the best and the worst at all times, my lady._

The ruffian is mediocre at best in his form, despite his brute strength and his alcohol-fueled aggression. Li feels rather like a cat toying with a fat, awkward bird too clumsy and stupid to fly away. But he’s determined, and his pride is stung, and despite her best efforts to draw him and his friends away and outside, they convene upon her together, and one of them draws his axe. She almost rolls her eyes, but draws her sword as well. The straight sword favoured by the _Emei_ sect is slim, almost dainty-looking, with its bright red tassel and lightweight blade, but it is lethal in the hands of an accomplished practitioner, and the style favours women-- agile, fast, reliant on the use of an opponent’s momentum against them as opposed to brute strength. One swipe of the blade sends his axe flying to imbed itself into the back of a chair, but that, too, only seems to spur him on. 

She dodges several blows, including two which come from behind her as the whole group converges on her with fists and weapons raised, but before she can even strike back, Jin is also in the fray, his solid back pressed to hers, machete in hand as he parries a blow from a big man carrying a cudgel. They move in tandem, as their free hands link together for a moment, bodies flowing in a seamless poetry of motion. She leaps into the air, blade flying in a flash of silver and crimson to send the majority of the gang sprawling, then lands lightly balanced on his shoulders. 

It’s mere minutes later that the gang of ruffians is utterly routed, and kicked out of the tavern in very short order. Thankfully, the property damage is minimal, and the silver that they’d left on the table is more than enough to cover the breakage. The barkeep waves a dismissive hand when Li attempts to pick up some of the broken crockery off the floor, and they make their exit shortly after, Li gathering up her longbow and quiver, Jin picking up the half-empty wine gourd off the table and taking another swig on his way out.

“At least we managed to get most of our meal in,” Li sniffs as they cross the threshold of the building. “The soup dumplings were very tolerable, and I was quite hungry. Of course, now it’s time to find a place for lodging ourselves for the night. Hopefully there will be one close by.”

In the way of itinerant warriors traversing all four corners of the _Jiang Hu_ , they spend their days on the road and their nights at whatever inns or houses are open to housing travelers for a nominal fee. In this instance, they find an evening’s lodging at the house of some local gentry. Lord Yu is a lot less supercilious than one might expect out of a wealthy scion of a noble house in the area, but as he explains it, his wife, Lady Ning, owed her life to a traveling Taoist priest who’d rescued her and her entourage from a roving group of bandits who’d waylaid them during their travels some years ago. “Wealth and station mean little in this life, in comparison to one’s moral character,” he says as he leads Jin and Li through a tranquil and lovely woodsy garden adorned with beautiful flowers and fountains, trees and topiary. “I owe a life debt to a traveling warrior, and I will always honour those whose currency is courage, whose legacy is honour. Come, and you will find your evening’s repose in my finest guest rooms.”

The manor of Lord Yu consists of several buildings, with the sumptuous gardens enclosed within the outlying walls for the enjoyment of the entire household. The ladies of the house all reside in one wing, and the gentlemen in the opposite, with a small courtyard in between, featuring a well and a newly planted copse of trees still slender saplings adjacent to a small gazebo. Even as the household’s servants ready rooms and all possible amenities for Jin and Li, their host invites them for a cup of tea in the gazebo. 

“This courtyard is for the family, but I’ve only started the construction and design a few years ago.” The nobleman smiles warmly. “It’s the local tradition that a man must build a well when the Gods give him a son-- so that the water which springs from the ground will give the boy a direct route to the Dragon Kings of the sea, so that he may aspire to match them in wisdom and bravery. And when the Gods give him a daughter, a man must plant a tree, to shade her from all hardship and sorrows, growing in height as a girl must grow in grace. My wife has blessed me with three daughters and a son.” He gestures the slim boles of the young cedars behind their seats. “Someday, when my daughters are grown and betrothed to be married, I will cut these trees down, and build their dowry chests with the wood, to be filled with silk and pearls to suit a young lady’s delicacy and beauty.”

“What a pretty tradition,” Li murmurs as she sips her tea slowly. “I’m sure your children will be grateful of how much their father honours them, and will honour you in return.”

The nobleman beams at her compliment, and excuses himself after a while to ascertain that their rooms are ready for them. Jin takes her hand, running a warm fingertip over the calluses on her slim fingers as he surveys the exquisite landscape around them. “Our host is a man of honour, a gentleman who has great love for his family.”

“Indeed.” It has been a long day, and Li is tranquil and drowsily content, letting her head lean against Jin’s shoulder as they stand there together, his fingers playing with hers. But his next words have her straightening up with a little bit of surprise. 

“Do you think that we could have that future someday, my lady? A home, with a courtyard, with trees and water?” Perhaps something of her shock comes through in her expression, because his lips curve up in a wry smile. “I’d never considered such a future before. I don’t know if I’d be any good at it. But with you, I’d like to try.” His hands cup her face now, stroking gently over the contours of her cheekbones, the wings of dark hair at her temples. “You must know that I love you, in a way that I have never-- _can_ never-- love another woman.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” She tips her face up; his own is close enough that she can see herself reflected in the deep blue of his eyes, glowing in the starlight. It’s not a special occasion; just another night, in another town, slightly weary with travel-dust, standing in a moonlit garden they might never see again. Life, she has learned, is full of uncertainties, and everything that she thought she’d known might change in the space of a second. Everything but this-- the trust and constancy and bond between the two of them. Li can feel her lips curving up, knows that he can read her answer in her eyes, before she can even say the words. His own lips curve up in response, and when he presses them to hers, softly and deeply as the saplings and wells that perhaps would be their own, someday, she can taste wine sweetened by his breath and a hint of tea.

**Author's Note:**

> As this is set in a fictional dynastic China (time period unspecified), here are the characters' names for easy reference:
> 
> Lady Han/Empress Rui-Sha: Hino Risa, Rei's mother  
> Emperor Tan-Xing: Hino Takashi, Rei's father  
> Princess Ru-Yuan/Han Li: Hino Rei  
> Master Wu: Rei's grandfather  
> Feng-Jie: Phobos  
> Di-Mei: Deimos  
> Princess He-Tian: Tomoe Hotaru  
> Emperor Shuo-Xing: Tomoe Souichi  
> Kong Lian/Clíodhna: Kaolinite  
> Zhou Jin: Jadeite  
> Master Nai Fu-Rui: Nephrite  
> Miss Mu-Dan: Makoto  
> Scholar Zuo Zeng-Yan: Zoisite  
> Meng Shui-Yin: Ami Mizuno  
> Tan Gong: Haruka Tenoh  
> Mi-Qiao: Michiru Kaiou  
> Song-Na: Setsuna Meiou  
> Emperor En-Di: Endymion  
> Lady Sai-Lin: Serenity  
> General Kang: Kunzite


End file.
